f 


THE  YEAR  BOOK  OF 
ENGLISH  AUTHORS 


WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 
1564-1616 


IHE  YEAR  BOOK  OF 
'ENGLISH  AUTHORS 

WRITTEN  AND  COMPILED  BY 
IDA  SCOTT  TAYLOR  AND  IL- 
LUSTRATED WITH  TWELVE 
HALF  TONE  PORTRAITS  OF 
PROMINENT  AUTHORS 


NEW   YORK 

RAPHAEL  TUCK  AND  SONS 

COMPANY,   LIMITED 

MCMI 


COPYRIGHT   1894  BY 

RAPHAEL  TUCK  AND   SONS 

COMPANY,   LIMITED 


PREFATORY   NOTE 

IT  has  been  my  purpose  not  only  to  make  this  volume 
a  helpful  Year  Book,  but  also  a  compilation  of  popular 
selections,  which  may  render  it  useful  for  reference. 
So  far  as  possible,  I  have  affixed  signatures  to  the 
quotations.  In  a  few  instances  the  writers  quoted  are 
not  of  English  birth,  but  these  cases  are  so  few  that 
it  is  practically  what  its  title  says  it  is  —  a  Year  Book 
of  English  Authors.  It  may  be  understood  that  all  of 
the  prose,  as  well  as  a  few  bits  of  verse  without  signa- 
ture, included  in  this  work,  belong  to  the  author  and 
compiler  of  it. 

I.  S.  T. 


"OLD  TIME'S  GREAT  CLOCK,  THAT  NEVER  STOPS, 

NOR   RUNS  TOO   FAST  NOR   SLOW, 
HUNG  UP  AMID  THE  WORLDS   OF   SPACE, 

WHERE  WHEELING  PLANETS  GLOW, 
ITS  DIAL-PLATE  THE  ORBIT  VAST 

WHERE  WHIRLS  OUR  MUNDANE    SPHERE,  — 
HAS  PUSHED   ITS    POINTER  ROUND  AGAIN, 

AND   STRUCK  ANOTHER    YEAR ! " 


HE   YEAR-BOOK   OF 
ENGLISH  AUTHORS. 

JANUARY. 

AND  now  across  the  hills  of  Time,  falls  the  glory 
of  a  new  Day,  the  royal  birthday  of  a  glad  New 
Year.  Make  way  for  his  coming  —  this  messenger  of 
promise  !  Open  the  gateways  of  the  skies,  let  down 
the  bars  of  sunlight  in  the  meadows  of  the  heavens, 
hoist  your  flags  of  triumph,  and  hail  King  January,  the 
ruling  sovereign  of  the  year  !  Look  up  !  see  where  the 
horizon  is  brightest,  there  is  a  motto  for  you  and  me, 
which  reads,  "  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will 
give  thee  a  crown  of  life  ! " 

Oh,  glorious  promise,  arching  above  us  like  a  rain- 
bow of  Hope,  —  a  promise  like  the  pillar  of  fire  to  go 
before  us  all  the  year  !  let  us  indeed  be  "  faithful  unto 
death." 

January,  bold  and  dauntless, 

Scales  old  Winter's  rugged  height, 
With  his  spangled  garments  gleaming 

In  the  iridescent  light ; 
And  he  walks  with  step  majestic  — 

While  we  hear  the  joy-bells  ring, 
As  they  greet  the  happy  New  Year 

Whom  they  honor  as  a  king. 

So  here  hath  been  dawning  another  blue  day ; 
Think,  wilt  thou  let  it  slip  useless  away  ? 
Out  of  eternity  this  new  day  is  born  ; 
Into  eternity  at  night  will  return. 

T.  CARLYLE. 

[7] 


JANUARY   SECOND. 

OUT  of  the  darkness  into  the  light!  Rejoice  and 
be  glad,  for  you  are  allowed  to  see  the  radiance 
of  another  morning,  and  its  blessings,  opportunities, 
and  duties  are  yours.  From  silence  and  sleep  have 
sprung  thought  and  activity,  and  the  busy  world  has 
once  more  begun  its  round  of  daily  cares.  Put  your 
shoulder  to  the  wheel,  take  up  the  dropped  stitches  of 
yesterday,  and  don't  be  disheartened ;  thank  God,  and 
take  courage :  come  what  may,  He  will  help  you  to 
bear  it,  and  give  you  strength  for  to-morrow  when  it 
comes. 

Again  the  Lord  of  life  and  light 

Awakes  the  kindling  ray, 
Unseals  the  eyelids  of  the  morn, 
And  pours  increasing  day. 

This  day  be  grateful  homage  paid, 

And  loud  hosannas  sung ; 
Let  gladness  dwell  in  every  heart, 

And  praise  on  every  tongue. 

To  Thee,  my  Saviour  and  my  King, 

Glad  homage  let  me  give  ; 
And  stand  prepared,  like  Thee,  to  die, 

With  Thee  that  I  may  live. 

ANNA   LETITIA   BARBAULD. 

Come,  Light  serene  and  still! 
Our  darkened  spirits  fill 

With  Thy  clear  day : 
Guide  of  the  feeble  sight, 
Reveal  the  path  of  right, 

Show  us  Thy  way. 

ROBERT   II.    OF   FRANCE. 
[8] 


JANUARY   THIRD. 

LET  us  be  true  to  ourselves  ;  true  to  our  principles, 
our  convictions,  and  our  religion.  A  man  who 
lives  up  to  a  true  moral  standard  of  right,  provided  his 
conscience  is  unimpaired,  is  a  man  of  untold  influence : 
other  men  look  up  to  him,  quote  him,  and  endeavor  to 
imitate  his  example.  They  are  proud  to  claim  his 
friendship,  for  his  word  is  as  good  as  his  bond,  and  a 
man  like  that  is  a  friend  worth  having.  If  we  would 
be  true  ourselves,  we  must  seek  the  truth.  Unless  we 
can  discriminate  between  right  and  wrong,  we  are  un- 
able to  know  the  truth.  Let  us  therefore  cultivate  our 
consciences,  and  do  only  those  things  that  are  pleas- 
ing to  God,  who  is  Himself  the  Divine  Truth. 

This  above  all  —  to  thine  own  self  be  true, 
And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  day, 
Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


Truth  is  as  impossible  to  be  soiled  by  any  outward 
touch  as  the  sunbeam.  —  MILTON. 


Happy  the  man  taught  by  the  truth  itself; 

Not  by  the  shapes  and  sounds  that  pass  across  his  life, 

But  by  the  very  truth. 

Our  thoughts  and  senses  often  lead  us  wrong ; 

They  see  one  side  alone. 

THOMAS  X   KEMPIS. 

There  is  nothing  so  strong  and  safe,  in  any  emer- 
gency of  life,  as  the  simple  truth.  —  DICKENS. 
[9] 


JANUARY   FOURTH. 

WE  are  never  happy  so  long  as  we  are  unforgiv- 
ing. If  we  cherish  an  unkind  thought  or  feel- 
ing, our  hearts  are  never  quite  right  in  the  sight  of 
God.  And  what  are  we,  that  we  should  deny  forgive- 
ness to  our  neighbor?  Have  we  done  nothing  to  be 
forgiven  ourselves  ?  Think  of  the  mistakes  we  are  con- 
tinually making,  of  the  impatient  words  we  say,  and 
the  number  of  times  we  have  grieved  and  offended 
those  around  us.  Oh  yes,  you  say,  we  have  much  to 
be  forgiven :  if  so,  then,  shall  we  refuse  to  forgive 
others?  How  many  times  does  the  Bible  tell  us  to 
forgive?  Have  you  exceeded  the  number?  Ah,  but 
you  say,  "  I  was  not  to  blame."  No  one  who  refuses 
to  forgive  ever  thinks  himself  blamable,  and  even  if 
he  is  innocent  of  any  wrong-doing  in  the  act  itself,  he 
is  sinning  against  God  so  long  as  he  denies  forgive- 
ness to  his  neighbor.  I  believe  it  to  be  sacredly  true 
that  no  one  can  keep  the  Golden  Rule  or  catch  the  real 
spirit  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  if  he  is  unforgiving  towards 
any  one,  —  no  matter  what  the  cause  may  be,  nor  who 
may  be  the  offender. 


"  Forgive  us  all  our  debts,"  we  say, 

"  As  we  have  all  forgiven  " ; 
Ah,  help  us  indeed  to  pray  — 

"  Father  which  art  in  Heaven  ! " 

Help  us  to  pray,  for  only  Thou 

Can'st  trace  the  secret  sin, 
And  only  Thou  can'st  wholly  know 

The  pride  that  lurks  within. 

HELEN   MARION   BURNSIDE. 
[10] 


JANUARY  FIFTH. 

DEATH  and  life  are  in  the  power  of  the  tongue. 
PROVERBS  l8:2l. 

Whoso  keepeth  his  mouth  and  his  tongue  keepeth 
his  soul  from  troubles.  PROVERBS  21 :  23. 

A  word  spoken  in  due  season,  how  good  is  it ! 

PROVERBS  15: 23. 

A  word  fitly  spoken  is  like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures 
of  silver.  PROVERBS  25  :  1 1 . 

How  much  the  Word  of  God  dwells  on  the  "  power 
of  the  tongue,"  and  yet  it  is  referred  to  as  a  "  little  mem- 
ber." With  what  care  should  we  guard  our  tongues, 
that  they  speak  no  ill,  that  they  carry  no  sting,  and  that 
they  always  find  an  opportunity  to  say  a  word  in  "  due 
season."  A  wise  tongue  echoes  the  thoughts  of  a  wise 
intellect,  an  eloquent  tongue  paints  word-pictures  in 
glowing  language  ;  a  truthful  tongue  is  persuasive,  and 
carries  conviction,  —  though  its  utterances  may  some- 
times lack  culture  and  polish ;  but  a  kindly  tongue 
speaks  the  words  that  can  never  die ;  surely  they  are 
"  like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver,"  sweet  and 
precious  to  an  aching  heart  and  wounded  spirit.  O 
words,  words!  let  us  be  careful  how  we  speak  them! 

Words  are  mighty,  words  are  living ; 

Serpents  with  their  venomous  stings, 
Or  bright  angels  crowding  round  us 

With  Heaven's  light  upon  their  wings ; 
Every  word  has  its  own  spirit, 

True  or  false  that  never  dies ; 
Every  word  man's  lips  have  uttered 

Echoes  in  God's  skies. 

ADELAIDE   PROCTER. 


JANUARY  SIXTH. 

BE  patient  at  all  times.  When  the  cares  and  duties 
of  the  day  are  weighing  you  down,  when  the  night 
is  long  and  dark,  and  when  your  cross  is  heavy  and 
hard  to  bear.  The  day  with  all  its  burdens  will  end 
with  the  setting  of  the  sun ;  the  night  will  soon  wear 
away,  and  there  will  be  a  glorious  dawn ;  and  God 
shall  exchange  your  cross  for  a  crown.  Then  be 
patient ;  there  is  a  reward  awaiting  the  faithful. 

Sweet  Patience,  come ; 
Not  from  a  low  and  earthly  source,  — 
Waiting  till  things  shall  have  their  course,  — 
Not  as  accepting  present  pain 
In  hope  of  some  hereafter  gain,  — 
Not  in  a  dull  and  sullen  calm,  — 
But  as  a  breath  of  heavenly  balm, 
Bidding  my  weary  heart  submit 
To  bear  whatever  God  sees  fit : 

Sweet  Patience,  come! 

HYMNS  OF   THE   CHURCH   MILITANT. 

There  is  no  crown  in  the  world 
So  good  as  Patience  :  neither  is  any  peace 
That  God  put  in  our  lips  to  drink  as  wine, 
More  honey-pure,  more  worthy  love's  own  praise, 
Than  that  sweet-souled  endurance  which  makes  clear 
The  iron  hands  of  anger.  SWINBURNE. 

Be  still,  my  soul !  —  the  Lord  is  on  thy  side  ; 

Bear  patiently  the  cross  of  grief  and  pain ; 
Leave  to  thy  God  to  order  and  provide,  — 

In  every  change  He  faithful  will  remain. 

HYMNS  FROM   THE   LAND  OF  LUTHER. 
[12] 


JANUARY    SEVENTH. 

WHAT  though  we  stand  in  the  shadow  with  our 
souls  sadly  yearning  for  the  light ;  know  ye 
not  that  in  God's  time  it  will  come?  We  shall  find 
the  waiting  hard  at  first,  for  we  are  by  nature  impatient ; 
there  will  be  doubts  and  complainings,  and  troublous 
murmurs  from  restless,  wilful  hearts,  but  by  and  by  we 
shall  find  His  way  is  best ;  and  when  we  cease  to  rely 
on  self,  He  will  calm  all  our  doubts  and  fears,  and  hush 
our  tumults  into  rest.  He  will  gently  lead  us  in  the 
paths  of  Peace,  and  reveal  to  us  the  light  of  His  love 
that  shines  like  a  beacon  in  the  Christian's  sky.  Let 
these  words  find  an  echo  in  our  souls :  — 

I  do  not  ask,  O  Lord,  that  life  may  be 

A  pleasant  road ; 
I  do  not  ask  that  Thou  would  take  from  me 

Aught  of  its  load ; 
I  do  not  ask  that  flowers  should  always  spring 

Beneath  my  feet ; 
I  know  too  well  the  poison  and  the  sting 

Of  things  too  sweet. 
For  one  thing  only,  Lord,  dear  Lord !  I  plead,  — 

Lead  me  aright, 

Though  strength  should  falter,  and  though  heart  should 
bleed, 

Through  Peace  to  Light. 

ADELAIDE  A.    PROCTER. 

Under  Thy  wings,  my  God,  I  rest, 

Under  Thy  shadow  safely  lie ; 
By  Thy  own  strength  in  peace  possessed, 

While  dreaded  evils  pass  me  by. 

ANNA   L.    WARING. 
[13] 


JANUARY   EIGHTH. 

IF  the  heart  is  full  of  happiness  and  joy,  the  lips  will 
sing.  A  volcano  must  have  an  outlet  somewhere : 
it  may  lie  smouldering  for  years,  but  by  and  by,  when 
we  least  expect  it,  it  will  burst  forth,  and  its  fiery  elo- 
quence shall  reach  far  into  the  clouds.  The  music  of 
the  glad  heart  cannot  be  silent  forever ;  God  will  tune 
the  key  and  measure  the  rhythm,  and  the  happy  song- 
ster shall  respond  to  its  great  Master  Musician.  Some- 
times, in  the  lowliest  walks  of  life,  surrounded  by 
humblest  walls,  and  in  the  midst  of  homeliest  tasks, 
the  singer  shall  catch  the  divine  key,  and  the  melody 
shall  mount  up,  as  with  wings,  and  chord  with  the 
Heavenly  Symphony ;  and  if  earth  does  not  recognize 
the  strain,  the  listening  angels  shall  know  and  rejoice, 
and  the  heart  of  the  singer  shall  be  blessed  and  glad- 
dened by  the  song.  God  interprets  melody  one  way, 
and  man  another:  music  to  Him  is  acceptable  when 
the  heart  sings  out  its  joy  and  gladness,  —  when  there 
is  love  and  praise  and  contentment  in  it,  though  the 
voice  be  poor  and  trembling  and  the  tune  sometimes 
uncertain.  Man  only  accepts  as  music  that  which 
talent  and  culture  bestows.  "Man  looketh  on  the 
outward  things,  but  God  looketh  on  the  heart." 

There  are  in  the  loud  stunning  tide 

Of  human  care  and  crime, 
With  whom  the  melodies  abide 

Of  th'  everlasting  chime ; 
Who  carry  music  in  the  heart 
Through  dusky  lane  and  wrangling  mart, 
Plying  their  daily  task  with  busier  feet 
Because  their  secret  souls  a  holy  strain  repeat. 

j.  KEBLE. 
[14] 


JANUARY   NINTH. 

DO  not  depend  too  much  on  earthly  friends.  Cir- 
cumstances often  change  them  and  alter  their 
friendship  for  you.  Do  not,  however,  misjudge  them  : 
sometimes  they  are  carrying  burdens  of  which  you 
may  never  know,  and  you  may  deem  them  untrue 
when  they  are  only  absorbed  with  other  things.  On 
the  other  hand,  circumstances  may  influence  them  so 
that  they  grow  indifferent  to  us.  New  and  more  pros- 
perous friends  may  take  our  places  in  their  thoughts 
and  affections,  and  we  may  become  unnecessary  to 
them.  Absence  and  distance  sometimes  estrange 
friends,  and  in  the  lapse  of  time  we  are  almost  for- 
gotten :  yet  the  true  and  steadfast  friend  will  never 
fail  us  through  all  life's  vicissitudes,  and  the  separation 
of  years  will  make  no  difference  in  his  love  and  loyalty. 
Such  a  friend  is  Christ.  He  changes  not,  but  is  "  the 
same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever." 

There's  naught  on  earth  to  rest  upon, 

All  things  are  changing  here, 
The  smiles  of  joy  we  gaze  upon, 

The  friends  we  count  most  dear : 
One  Friend  alone  is  changeless, 

The  One  too  oft  forgot, 
Whose  love  hath  stood  for  ages  past  — 

Our  Jesus  changeth  not. 

One  sky  alone  is  cloudless, 

There  darkness  enters  not, 
Tis  found  alone  with  Jesus  — 

And  Jesus  changeth  not. 

WHITEFIELD. 

This  God  is  our  God  forever  and  ever :  He  will  be 
our  guide  even  unto  death.  —  PSALM  48  :  14. 
[is] 


JANUARY   TENTH. 

IF  we  can  only  cling  to  the  Cross  of  Christ,  we  shall 
be  safe.  In  the  midst  of  temptation,  of  doubt, 
and  danger,  it  is  a  Rock  of  defence ;  in  the  waves  of 
sorrow,  and  underneath  the  clouds  of  darkness,  it  is 
a  comfort  and  a  beacon  of  light  to  lead  us  onward. 
When  weary  and  discouraged  with  the  journey  of  life, 
let  us  rest  in  the  shadow  of  the  Cross  and  drop  our 
burdens  there.  Its  radiance  shall  illumine  our  souls, 
and  give  us  renewed  faith  and  hope.  Blessed  are  they 
that  hide  their  hearts  in  its  refuge. 

Never  farther  than  Thy  cross, 

Never  higher  than  Thy  feet ; 
Here  earth's  precious  things  seem  dross, 

Here  earth's  bitter  things  grow  sweet. 

Gazing  thus,  our  sins  shall  see, 
Learn  Thy  love  while  gazing  thus ; 

Sin  which  laid  the  cross  on  Thee, 
Love  which  bore  the  cross  for  us. 

Here  we  learn  to  serve  and  give, 

And,  rejoicing,  self  deny ; 
Here  we  gather  love  to  live, 

Here  we  gather  faith  to  die. 

Symbols  of  our  liberty 

And  our  service  here  unite ; 
Captives,  by  Thy  cross  set  free, 

Soldiers  of  Thy  cross,  we  fight. 

Till  amid  the  hosts  of  light, 

We  in  Thee  redeemed  complete, 

Through  Thy  cross  made  pure  and  white, 
Cast  our  crowns  before  Thy  feet. 

ELIZABETH   R.    CHARLES. 

[16] 


JANUARY   ELEVENTH. 

TRUE  contentment  is  an  ornament  to  the  mind. 
It  is  a  jewel  that  brightens  with  the  using,  and 
imparts  a  lustre  to  all  around  it.  It  combines  peace 
and  happiness,  and  its  possessor  has  a  treasure  which 
kings  might  envy.  To  be  contented,  in  the  midst  of 
gaining  and  losing,  waiting  and  serving,  loving  and 
hating  —  what  a  rare  thing  it  is!  How  few  of  us  learn, 
even  in  the  longest  lifetime,  the  sweet  lesson  of  con- 
tent, and  yet  it  should  be  our  chief  care  to  cultivate  so 
desirable  a  trait  of  character.  God  tells  us  "  to  be 
content  with  such  things  as  we  have,"  but  we  are  con- 
tinually reaching  out  after  something  which  is  not 
worth  having.  It  is  right  that  we  should  be  discon- 
tented with  ourselves,  —  we  should  aspire  to  a  higher 
growth  and  more  noble  living,  —  but  to  be  discontented 
with  what  God  gives  us,  is  wrong.  Let  us  make  the 
best  of  our  surroundings,  and  meet  each  day's  duty 
with  a  cheerfulness  that  is  the  outgrowth  of  inward 
peace  and  calm  content. 

Happy  the  man,  of  mortals  happiest  he, 
Whose  quiet  mind  from  vain  desires  is  free ; 
Whom  neither  hopes  deceive  nor  fears  torment, 
But  lives  at  peace,  within  himself  content. 

GEORGE  GRANVILLE. 

The  noblest  mind  the  best  contentment  has. 

SPENSER. 

My  crown  is  in  my  heart,  not  on  my  head, 
Not  deck'd  with  diamonds  and  Indian  stones, 
Nor  to  be  seen  ;  my  crown  is  called  Content : 
A  crown  it  is  that  seldom  kings  enjoy. 

HENRY   VI.,  PART   III.,  ACT   III. 
[17] 


JANUARY   TWELFTH. 

npHROUGH  all  the  changes  of  life  have  a  purpose, 
J-  and  stick  to  it.  Let  no  outward  circumstances 
cause  you  to  become  discouraged  and  lose  heart,  if 
your  aspirations  are  noble  and  true,  but  go  resolutely 
forward,  and  be  contented  to  face  dull  monotony  day 
by  day.  No  man  can  ever  obtain  wealth,  power,  and 
honor  without  fixedness  of  purpose,  and  to  accomplish 
these  he  is  obliged  to  do  a  great  deal  of  plodding.  If 
you  are  willing  to  climb,  you  will  sometime  reach  the 
summit.  You  cannot  walk  around  a  difficulty  expect- 
ing to  find  an  easy  place  to  surmount  it :  you  only 
waste  time  in  the  attempt.  Take  in  the  situation,  and 
begin  the  ascent :  God  allows  no  obstacles  too  great 
and  no  mounts  of  difficulty  too  high  for  us.  Purpose 
and  perseverance,  with  faith  in  Him,  shall  break  down 
every  barrier  and  leave  us  no  excuse  for  failures. 

Onward,  onward  may  we  press 

Through  the  path  of  duty ; 
Virtue  is  true  happiness, 

Excellence  true  beauty ; 
Minds  are  of  supernal  birth, 

Let  us  make  a  heaven  of  earth. 

JAMES  MONTGOMERY. 

The  man  who  seeks  one  thing  in  life,  and  but  one, 
May  hope  to  achieve  it  before  life  be  done ; 
But  he  who  seeks  all  things,  wherever  he  goes, 
Only  reaps  from  the  hopes  which  around  him  he  sows 
A  harvest  of  barren  regrets. 

OWEN   MEREDITH. 

Our  lives  are  measured  by  the  deeds  we  do, 
The  thoughts  we  think,  the  objects  we  pursue. 

ANONYMOUS. 
[18] 


JANUARY  THIRTEENTH. 

NEVER  allow  yourself  to  be  too  busy  to  look  after 
your  conscience.  It  needs  more  attention  than 
your  toilet.  Put  it  in  order  every  morning  for  the  day, 
else  if  neglected  it  will  become  diseased  like  any  other 
part  of  you.  Examine  it  carefully  at  night,  and  see 
how  it  has  stood  the  test  of  the  day.  Keep  it  clean 
and  pure,  keep  it  tender  and  impressionable,  and  always 
remember  that  it  is  an  open  window  to  the  eye  of  God. 
Listen  to  the  gentle  monitor  within ;  a  good  conscience 
is  a  safe  counsellor,  and  to  follow  it  is  to  steer  in  a  right 
direction.  God  has  given  us  our  consciences  that  we 
may  educate  them  in  the  best  schools  and  give  them 
a  good  moral  training.  A  neglected  conscience  is  like 
a  garden  full  of  weeds ;  nothing  good  has  room  to 
grow  in  a  man,  for  the  weeds  of  his  evil  nature  get  the 
better  of  him,  and  his  conscience  becomes  hardened 
and  unresponsive  for  want  of  pruning. 

Yet  still  there  whispers  the  small  voice  within, 
Heard  through  Gain's  silence,  and  o'er  Glory's  din ; 
Whatever  creed  be  taught  or  land  be  trod, 
Man's  conscience  is  the  oracle  of  God. 

BYRON. 

Conscience  is  harder  than  our  enemies, 
Knows  more,  accuses  with  more  nicety. 

GEORGE  ELIOT. 

Let  Joy  or  Ease,  let  Affluence  or  Content, 
And  the  gay  Conscience  of  a  life  well  spent, 
Calm  ev'ry  thought,  inspirit  ev'ry  grace, 
Glow  in  thy  heart,  and  smile  upon  thy  face. 

POPE. 

Every  subject's  duty  is  the  king's,  but  every  subject's 
soul  is  his  own.  —  SHAKESPEARE. 
[19] 


I 


JANUARY   FOURTEENTH. 

N  the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and  the 
earth.  —  GENESIS  i  :  i. 


The  heavens  declare   the  glory  of  God;  and  the 
firmament  showeth  his  handiwork.  —  PSALM  19:1. 

Eternal  Wisdom!  Thee  we  praise, 

To  Thee  our  songs  we  bring ; 
While  with  Thy  name  rocks,  hills,  and  seas, 

And  Heaven's  high  arches  ring. 
Thy  hand,  how  wide  it  spread  the  sky! 

How  glorious  to  behold ! 
Tinged  with  a  blue  of  heavenly  dye, 

And  starred  with  sparkling  gold! 

There  Thou  hast  bid  the  globes  of  light 

Their  endless  circles  run  ; 
There  the  pale  planet  rules  the  night, 

And  day  obeys  the  sun ; 
The  stormy  winds  stand  ready  there 

Thine  orders  to  obey ; 
With  sounding  wings  they  sweep  the  air, 

To  make  Thy  chariot  way. 

Infinite  strength,  and  equal  skill, 

Shine  through  the  worlds  abroad  ; 
Our  souls  with  vast  amazement  fill, 

And  speak  the  builder —  God. 
But  the  sweet  beauties  of  Thy  grace 

Our  softer  passions  move  ; 
Pity  divine  in  Jesus'  face 

We  see,  adore,  and  love. 

ISAAC   WATTS. 

[20] 


JANUARY   FIFTEENTH. 

OH,  the  blessedness  of  giving!  How  it  enlarges 
our  hearts  and  sweetens  our  toil  to  share  our 
bounty  with  others!  There  is  always  some  one  poorer 
than  ourselves  to  need  our  help,  —  poorer  in  more  ways 
than  one.  Perhaps  some  one  we  know  is  starving  for 
sympathy  and  kindness,  or  hungering  for  an  encourag- 
ing word :  we  surely  can  give  these  things  without 
impoverishing  ourselves  or  our  dear  ones. 

Or,  if  they  lack  temporal  blessings,  let  us  do  with 
a  little  less,  that  we  may  divide  with  them.  It  is  the 
sweetness  of  silent  alms  that  gladdens  the  heart  of 
the  Master  and  enriches  the  heart  of  the  giver.  It  is 
the  every-day  life  of  self-sacrifice  and  self-denial  that 
makes  benevolence  beautiful. 

Is  thy  cruse  of  comfort  wasting?     Rise  and  share  it 

with  another, 
And  through  all  _the  years  of  famine  it  shall  serve  jthee 

and  thy  brother^ 

Love  divine  will   fill   thy  storehouse^  or  thy  handful. 

still  renew : 
Scanty  fare  for  one  will  often  makg_a  royal  feast  Jpr 

two. 

For_  the_heart  grows  rich  in_^iving;  all  its  wealth  is 

jiving  grain  ; 
.Seeds,  which_mi_ldew  in  the_garner,  scattered,  fill  with 

gold_the_plam. 

Is  thy_  burden^  hard  jind   heavy  ?  do  thy  stegsjirag 

wearily? 
Help  to  bear  thy  brothej^VbujxLgnj  God  will  bear  both 

it  and  thee._ 

ELIZABETH   R.   CHARLES. 
[21] 


JANUARY   SIXTEENTH. 

WHY  should  we  boast  of  what  we  have  and  are? 
All  that  we  have  God  has  given  us ;  all  that 
we  are  has  only  been  reached  through  our  acceptance 
of  His  opportunities.  He  has  endowed  us  with  body, 
mind,  and  soul.  If  we  possess  physical  beauty  and 
symmetry,  it  is  His  gift :  if  our  minds  are  active  and 
receptive,  He  has  made  them  so  :  if  our  souls  are  sing- 
ing the  music  of  Heaven,  it  is  because  He  has  given 
us  the  chord.  Worldly  possessions  should  only  be 
regarded  as  a  blessing  and  means  of  doing  good.  As 
God  has  prospered  us,  let  us  benefit  others.  Riches 
are  short-lived,  but  .good  deeds  that  spring  from  right 
motives  are  as  immortal  as  Heaven.  Let  us  then  divest 
ourselves  of  pride,  and  keep  before  us  the  thought  of 
the  Eternal  Goodness.  Life  at  best  is  short,  and  will 
soon  vanish  away ;  but,  thank  God,  He  has  provided 
a  home  for  the  faithful,  an  inheritance  that  shall  last 
forever. 

O  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud? 
Like  a  swift-fleeting  meteor,  a  fast-flying  cloud, 
A  flash  of  the  lightning,  a  break  of  the  wave, 
Man  passes  from  life  to  his  rest  in  the  grave. 

For  we  are  the  same  that  our  fathers  have  been ; 
We  see  the  same  sights  that  our  fathers  have  seen ; 
We  drink  the  same  stream,  and  we  see  the  same  sun, 
And  run  the  same  race  that  our  fathers  have  run. 

Yea,  hope  and  despondency,  pleasure  and  pain, 
We  mingle  together  in  sunshine  and  rain ; 
And  the  smiles  and  the  tears,  the  song  and  the  dirge, 
Still  follow  each  other,  like  surge  upon  surge. 

WILLIAM   KNOX. 


JANUARY    SEVENTEENTH. 

GOD  has  given  us  His  peace  to  comfort  us,  His 
faith  to  uplift  us,  and  His  Word  to  enlighten 
us.  We  have  daily  proofs  of  His  care  for  us,  and 
of  His  provision  for  our  well-being  and  happiness. 
All  this  is  because  He  loves  us  !  O,  what  divine  con- 
descension, that  He  should  stoop  to  remember  us  in 
our  low  estate!  He  rules  the  celestial  Kingdom,  and 
His  footstool  is  the  world ;  His  strength  is  in  the 
clouds,  and  His  dominion  and  power  are  beyond 
comprehension.  The  Almighty  and  Infinite  God  hath 
for  all  His  creatures  a  deep  and  boundless  love,  which 
we  in  our  humanity  cannot  fathom  or  measure. 

On  the  great  love  of  God  I  lean, 

Love  of  the  Infinite,  Unseen, 

With  naught  of  Heaven  or  earth  between. 

This  God  is  mine,  and  I  am  His ; 

His  love  is  all  I  need  of  bliss. 

H.    BONAR. 

Lord,  Thou  art  Life,  tho'  I  be  dead, 

Love's  fire  Thou  art,  however  cold  I  be ; 

Nor  heaven  have  I,  nor  place  to  lay  my  head, 
Nor  home,  but  Thee. 

CHRISTINA  ROSSETTI. 

What  myst'ry  clouds  my  darkened  path  ? 
I'll  check  my  dread,  my  doubts  reprove ; 
In  this  my  soul  sweet  comfort  hath, 
That  God  is  Love. 

Oh,  may  this  truth  my  heart  employ, 
Bid  every  gloomy  thought  remove, 
And  turn  all  tears,  all  woes  to  joy,  — 
Thou,  God,  art  Love. 

ANONYMOUS. 


JANUARY   EIGHTEENTH. 

A  MAN  should  guard  his  honor  more  than  his  gold. 
If  it  is  impossible  to  possess  both  at  the  same 
time,  let  him  part  with  his  wealth  and  cling  to  his 
honor.  Better,  a  thousand  times,  be  a  penniless  beg- 
gar with  a  blameless  character  than  a  prince  with  a 
stain  on  his  name.  Better  fall  low  in  the  estimation 
of  the  world  than  lose  caste  with  God  and  the  angels. 
The  man  who  would  honor  his  Maker  must  also  honor 
himself;  he  must  make  a  name  and  keep  it  above 
reproach,  so  that  in  after  years  it  shall  be  found  un- 
sullied in  the  Records  of  Heaven. 

Honour  is  purchased  by  deeds  we  do  ;  honour  is  not  won, 
Until  some  honourable  deed  is  done. 

CHRISTOPHER   MARLOWE. 

'Tis  the  mind  that  makes  the  body  rich  ; 

And  as  the  sun  breaks  through  the  darkest  clouds, 

So  honour  peereth  in  the  meanest  habit. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Honour  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise ; 
Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honour  lies. 

POPE. 

The  sense  of  honour  is  of  so  fine  and  delicate  a  nature 
that  it  is  only  to  be  met  with  in  minds  which  are  nat- 
urally noble,  or  in  such  as  have  been  cultivated  by 
great  examples  or  a  refined  education.  —  ADDISON. 

Glory  is  sweet  when  our  heart  says  to  us  that  the 
wreath  of  honour  ought  to  grace  our  head. 

KRUMMACHER. 

I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much, 
Loved  I  not  honour  more. 

RICHARD   LOVELACE. 


JANUARY  NINETEENTH. 

BOOKS  exert  a  silent  influence  on  our  lives.  They 
are  like  friends,  —  we  choose  them,  and  all  un- 
consciously they  mould  our  characters  after  their  own 
similitude.  A  man's  thoughts  usually  flow  in  the 
same  channel  with  the  books  he  reads.  He  who 
chooses  only  the  purest  and  best  books  will  certainly 
be  the  better  for  their  influence.  If,  then,  our  minds 
are  so  susceptible,  let  us  be  careful  how  and  what  we 
read,  selecting  only  books  that  will  elevate  and  improve 
us  and  broaden  and  expand  our  intellect. 

Of  all  those  arts  in  which  the  wise  excel, 
Nature's  chief  masterpiece  is  writing  well. 

SHEFFIELD. 

All  that  mankind  has  done,  thought,  gained,  or  been 
is  lying  as  in  a  magic  preservation  in  the  pages  of 
books.  They  are  the  chosen  possession  of  men. 

CARLYLE. 

Books  should  to  one  of  these  four  ends  conduce,  — 
For  wisdom,  piety,  delight,  and  use. 

SIR  JOHN   DENHAM. 

A  good  book  is  the  precious  life-blood  of  a  master- 
spirit, embalmed  and  treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a  life 
beyond  life.  —  MILTON. 

I  love  to  lose  myself  in  other  men's  minds.  When 
I  am  not  walking,  I  am  reading :  I  cannot  sit  and 
think.  Books  think  for  me.  —  LAMB. 

Insist  on  reading  the  great  books,  on  marking  the 
great  events  of  the  world.  Then  the  little  books  may 
take  care  of  themselves,  and  the  trivial  incidents  of 
passing  politics  and  diplomacy  may  perish  with  the 

using.  —  DEAN   STANLEY. 

[35] 


JANUARY   TWENTIETH. 

WHAT  a  wonderful  thing  is  Influence!  There  is 
a  thrill  of  power  in  the  word  itself.  Our  lives 
are  small  and  insignificant  at  best,  but  our  influence  is 
mighty  for  either  good  or  evil.  Though  we  run  our 
course  in  a  few  brief  years,  our  influence  goes  on, 
sweeping  through  the  ages,  into  Eternity.  Carlyle 
says,  "  The  work  an  unknown  good  man  has  done,  is 
like  a  vein  of  water  flowing  hidden  underground, 
secretly  making  the  ground  green."  Nothing  is 
sweeter  or  more  impressive  than  silence,  and  nothing 
more  restful  and  beautiful  than  verdure ;  and  if  we  can 
only  yield  such  an  influence  as  this,  how  much  better 
the  world  will  be  for  our  having  lived  in  it ! 

Who  knows 
What  earth  needs  from  earth's  lowest  creatures  ?    No 

life 

Can  be  pure  in  its  purpose  and  strong  in  its  strife, 
And  all  life  not  be  purer  and  stronger  thereby. 
The  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect  on  high, 
The  army  of  martyrs  who  stand  by  the  Throne 
And  gaze  into  the  face  that  makes  glorious  their  own, 
Knows  this  surely  at  last.    Honest  love,  honest  sorrow, 
Honest  work  for  the  day,  honest  hope  for  the  mor- 
row— 
Are  these  worth  nothing  more  than  the   hand   they 

make  weary, 
The   heart  they   have  sadden'd,  the  life  they  leave 

dreary  ? 
Hush  !    the  sevenfold  heavens  to  the  voice  of  the 

spirit 
Echo :  He  that  q'_ercometh  shall  all  thingsjinherit. 

OWEN   MEREDITH. 


JANUARY   TWENTY-FIRST. 

BEGIN  the  morning  with  God.  Open  your  eyes  to 
His  glories,  and  let  your  tongue  echo  forth  His 
praises.  Let  each  act  be  a  bit  of  worship.  When  you 
admit  to  your  room  the  first  beams  of  the  early  sun, 
think  how  He  has  lighted  Life's  pathway  for  you : 
when  you  brush  your  hair,  remember  how  His  loving 
hand  has  smoothed  the  tangles  of  difficulties  from 
before  you :  when  you  wash  your  face,  think  of  His 
dews  of  Mercy  that  are  "  new  every  morning " ;  and 
when  you  array  yourself  for  the  day,  send  up  a  little 
prayer  that  your  soul  may  also  wear  the  "robe  of 
Righteousness,"  and  that  you  may  be  "  clad  with  zeal, 
as  with  a  cloak."  Begin  the  morning  thus,  and  your 
heart  enjoys  noontide's  rest  and  night's  repose. 

Mornings  are  mysteries :  the  first  world's  youth, 
Man's  resurrection,  and  the  future's  bud 

Shroud  in  their  birth  the  crown  of  life,  light,  truth ; 
Is  styled  their  star ;  the  stone,  and  hidden  food. 

Three  blessings  wait  upon  them,  one  of  which 

Should  move  —  they  make  us  holy,  happy,  rich. 

When  the  world's  up,  and  every  swarm  abroad, 
Keep^well  thy  temper ;  mix  not  with  each  day ; 

Despatch  necessities  :  life  has  a  load 
Which  must  be  carried  on,  and  safely  may. 

Yetjceep  these  cares  without  thge :  let  the  hear£ 

Be  God's  alone,  and  choose  the  better  part^ 

HENRY  VAUGHAN. 

Lord,  I  my  vows  to  Thee  renew, 
I     Scatter  my  sins  as  morning  dew, 
I     Guard  my  first  springs  of  thought  and  will, 
\    And  with  Thyself  my  spirit  fill.  / 

^  THOMAS   KEN. 

[27] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-SECOND. 

TRUE  Nobility  consists  in  making  every  act  of  our 
lives  an  honor  to  our  Maker.  God's  noblemen 
are  men  of  royal  birth ;  they  inherit  the  charity  that 
smiles  on  all  humanity,  the  heroism  that  enables  them 
to  conquer  self,  and  the  courtesy  which  is  a  natural 
instinct  to  a  heart  at  peace  with  God  and  the  world. 
To  be  truly  noble,  we  must  do  only  noble  deeds,  and 
if  our  praises  are  not  sung  on  earth,  the  recompense 
shall  be  ours  by  and  by. 

Think  truly,  and  thy  thought 
Shall  the  world's  famine  feedj. 

Speak  truly,  and  thy  yvord 
Shall  be  a  fruitful  seed ; 

Live  truly,  and  thy  life  shall  be. 
A  great  and  noble  creed. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Be  good,  sweet  maid,  and  let  who  will  be  clever ; 

Do  noble  things,  not  dream  them,  all  day  long ; 
And  so  make  life,  death,  and  the  vast  forever 

One  grand,  sweet  song. 

CHARLES   KINGSLEY. 

Better  not  to  be  at  all 
Than  not  to  be  noble. 

TENNYSON. 

The  grand  old  gardener  and  his  wife 
Smile  at  the  claims  of  long  descent ; 

Howe'er  it  be,  it  seems  to  me. 
'Tis  only  noble  to  be  good ; 

True_hearts  are  more  than  coronets^ 
And  simple  faith  than_Nonnan  blood. 

TENNYSON. 

[28] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-THIRD. 

TIME  never  sleeps,  but  guards  with  jealous  care  the 
passing  years.  Bold,  resolute,  and  dauntless,  he 
peers  into  the  mystic  future,  like  an  engineer  with  his 
swift  locomotive,  and  steers  his  freighted  train  of  hours, 
days,  and  seasons  through  the  mists  and  shadows  of 
the  valleys  of  Fear ;  over  the  vernal  heights  of  Hope ; 
through  the  wilderness  of  Doubt ;  along  the  by-ways 
of  Progress  ;  into  the  avenues  of  Success,  and  down  the 
deeps  of  Adversity.  Time  shall  know  no  rest  until 
he  meets  his  great  enemy  —  Eternity  —  who  shall 
arrest  his  footsteps  and  stay  his  flight ;  then  shall  he 
drop  the  burden  of  the  Years,  fling  down  his  gleaming 
scythe,  and  sink  into  oblivion.  Where  Time  ends  and 
Eternity  begins,  it  is  not  ours  to  know ;  the  Author  of 
the  universe,  in  whom  we  trust,  is  All-wise,  and  to  Him 
alone  belong  the  mysteries  of  Time  and  Eternity. 


Touch  us  gently,  Time ! 

We've  not  proud  nor  soaring  wings ; 
Our  ambition,  our  content, 

Lies  in  simple  things. 
Humble  voyagers  are  we. 
O'er  Lifers  dim,  unsounded  sea^ 
Seeking  only  some  calm  clime ;  — 
Touch  us  gently,  gentle  Time  ! 

BRYAN   WALLER   PROCTER. 


The  best  is  yet  to  be^ 

The  last  of  jife,  for  which  the  first  was 

ROBERT  BROWNING. 
[09] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

SOME  one  has  said,  "  Fame  is  a  bubble,"  and  so  it 
is.  It  holds  in  its  fragile  globe  the  fleeting  reflec- 
tion of  the  sunlight,  and  when  the  sky  changes,  the 
glory  fades,  the  bubble  bursts  and  leaves  no  trace  be- 
hind. The  goal  for  which  we  toil,  year  by  year,  is 
brighter  in  anticipation  than  reality,  and  by  the  time 
we  have  reached  it  we  are  too  weary  to  enjoy  it,  or 
have  grown  to  realize  its  nothingness.  It  is  more 
noble  to  seek  to  do  good  thaii  to  desire  to.  be  famous. 
The  praises  of  men  are  but  weak  after  all,  and  if  it  is 
that  which  inspires  us,  the  end  is  not  worth  striving 
for. 

The  garlands  wither  on  your  brow,  — 

Then  boast  no  more  your  mighty  deeds ; 
Upon  death's  altar,  now, 

See  where  the  victor  victim  bleeds  ! 
All  heads  must  come 
To  the  cold  tomb,— 
Only  the  actions  ofjhe  just 
Smell  sweet,  and  blossom  in  the  dust,. 

JAMES   SHIRLEY. 

He  lives  in  fame,  that  died  in  virtue's  cause. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 
And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave, 

Await  alike  the  inevitable  hour;  — 

The  paths  of  .glory  lead  but  to  the  grave,. 

GRAY. 

^LJnblemished  let  me  live,  or  die  unknown,; 
Oh,  grant  an  honest  fame,  or  grant  me  none! 

POPE. 

[30] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

THE  greatest  thing,  after  all,  is  to  understand  our 
qwr^  hearts ;  to_rid_theiB .of  their  faults,  so  that^ 
their  _yirtues_may  Jhave^iQQni  for  larger  and   better 
growth,  and  to  keep  them__true  and  tender,  and  in  sym- 
pathy with  our  brother-mar^ 

Heart-culture  is  full  of  surprises ;  we  are  amazed  at 
our  own  selves  when  we  once  begin  the  process.  The 
good  and  bad  within  us  are  continually  at  war  with 
each  other,  and  as  fast  as  we  root  out  one  evil  thought, 
another  seed  will  spring  up,  so  that  we  have  great  need 
of  patience  and  perseverance.  From  the  heart  issue 
the  thoughts  that  make  for  us  our  everlasting  joy  or 
eternal  misery ;  from  the  heart  our  bodies  are  fed  and 
our  souls  quickened,  and  through  its  influence  the 
world  is  made  better  or  worse. 

It's  no  in  titles  nor  in  rank, 

It's  no  in  wealth  like  Lon'on  bank, 

To  purchase  peace  and  rest ; 
It's  no  in  making  muckle  mair, 
It's  no  in  books,  it's  no  lear, 

To  make  us  truly  blest : 
If  happiness  has  not  her  seat 

And  centre  in  the  brest, 
We  may  be  wise,  or  rich,  or  great, 

But  never  can  be  blest : 

Nae  treasures,  nor  pleasures, 
Could  make  us  happy  lang ; 

The  heart  aye's  the  part  aye... 
That  makes  us  right  or  wrang^ 

BURNS. 

If  a  good  face  is  a  letter  of  recommendation,  a  good 
.heart  is  a  letter  of  credit.  —  BULWER-LYTTON. 
"[31] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

"T7TERNAL  hope!  when  yonder  spheres  sublime 
*-*  Pealed  their  first  notes  to   sound   the   march  of 

time, 
Thy  joyous  youth  began. 

CAMPBELL. 


Know  then,  whatever  cheerful  and  serene 
Supports  the  mind,  supports  the  body  too ; 
Hence  the  most  vital  movement  mortals  feel 
Is  Hope,  the  balm  and  life-blood  of  the  soul. 

JOHN  ARMSTRONG. 

Work  without  Hope  draws  nectar_in  a  sieve. 
And  Hope  without  an_ object  Cannot  live. 

S.   T.   COLERIDGE. 

Hope,_like  jhe_gleaming^  taper's  light, 

Adorns  and  jcheers^  pur  way^ ; 
And_s,till,  as  darker  grows  the  night, 

Ejmite_a^brigjvter  ray. , 

GOLDSMITH. 

Hope,  like  a  cordial,  innocent,  though  strong, 
Man's  heart  at  once  inspirits  and  serenes. 

YOUNG. 

Through  the  sunset  of  Hope, 
Like  the  shapes  of  a  dream, 
What  paradise  islands  of  glory  gleam  ! 

SHELLEY. 

Sweet  Hope !  celestial  influence  round  me  shed, 
Waving  thy  silver  pinions  o'er  my  head. 

KEATS. 
[32] 


JANUARY  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

HOW  rare  and  sweet  is  the  grace  of  Humility,  espe- 
cially when  possessed  by  those  who  have  attained 
honors  or  accumulated  wealth!  A  truly  humble  man 
is  seldom  to  be  found,  —  but  when  we  once  discover 
him,  he  is  as  refreshing  to  us  as  an  oasis  to  the  traveller 
in  the  desert.  Some  of  our  greatest  men  have  been  as 
much  distinguished  for  their  modesty  and  humility  as 
for  their  greatness.  I  should  say  that  of  all  classes  of 
men  the  "  self-made  man  "  is  most  apt  to  be  boastful ; 
he  will  probably  tell  you,  the  first  time  you  are  in  his 
company,  that  he  is  a  self-made  man,  and  expects  you 
to  evince  much  surprise  at  his  assertion,  —  little  guess- 
ing that  his  manner  and  conversation  have  proclaimed 
the  fact  to  every  one  present.  When  we  sing  our  own 
praises,  Humility  hides  her  gentle  face  in  very  shame 
for  us.  Humanity,  under  all  circumstances,  needs  to 
be  clothed  in  the  garb  of  Humility  ;  meekness  is  not 
weakness,  but  lowly  strength ;  it  is  the  triumphr_<tf 
being  in  the  world,  but  not  0f\\. 

God  hath  sworn  to  lift  on  high 
Who  sinks  himself  by  true  humility. 

KEBLE. 

O  be  very  sure 

That  no  man  will  learn  anything  at  all, 
Unless  he  first  will  learn  humility. 

OWEN  MEREDITH. 


Knowledge  is  proud  that  he  knows  so  much ; 
Wisdom  is  humble  that  he  knows  no  more., 

COWPER. 
[33] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 


R 


EST  not  !     Life  is  sweeping  by ; 
Go  and  dare  before  you  die. 

GOETHE. 


Life  is  a  short  day  ;  but  it  is  a  working  ^a^. 

"    HANNAH  MORE. 

Employment  is  the  tonic  of  body,  mind,  and  soul. 
An  idle  existence  weakens  the  body  :  lack  of  exer- 
cise brings  us  to  a  physical  standstill.  The  cheek 
loses  its  glow  of  health,  the  eye  its  lustre,  and  the 
step  its  elasticity  and  firmness.  Every  muscle  and 
sinew  expands  and  responds  with  life  and  strength, 
with  proper  physical  exercise.  The  mind  lies  dormant, 
and  all  her  natural  powers  become  dulled  by  disuse  ; 
to  become  healthy  and  vigorous,  the  mind  should  have 
proper  nourishment  and  exercise  every  day.  So,  too, 
with  the  soul  ;  spiritual  ill-health  is  often  caused  by 
neglect. 

All  Nature  works  ;  why  not  we  ?  The  hills,  valleys, 
plains,  and  mountains  know  no  rest,  but  each  bear  an 
active  part  to  enrich  and  beautify  the  earth.  Let  us 
not  be  idle,  but  while  it  is  To-day,  let  us  take  our  place 
among  life's  toilers,  and  make  its  duties  ours. 

Rise  !  —  for  the  day  is  passing, 

And  you  lie  dreaming  on  ; 
The  others  have  buckled  their  armour, 

And  forth  to  fight  have  gone  ; 
A  pjace  in  the  rank  awaits  yotk 
has  some  part  to  plaj 


The  past  and  the  future  are  looking 
In  the  face  of  the  stern  To-day. 

ADELAIDE  A.  PROCTER. 
[34] 


JANUARY   TWENTY-NINTH. 

ALL  mankind  enjoys  being  appreciated :  if  we  have 
always  been  accustomed  to  it,  we  expect  it,  and 
are  disappointed  if  we  fail  to  receive  it.  If  unaccustomed 
to  it,  we  are  both  surprised  and  pleased,  and  are  made 
happy  that  some  one  is  kind  enough  and  frank  enough 
to  show  their  approval  of  anything  we  do.  If  you  think 
an  appreciative  thought,  speak  it  —  you  may  have  but 
this  one  chance ;  do  not  fail  to  improve  the  opportunity. 


Sweet  is  the  breath  of  praise  when  given  by  those 
whose  own  high  merit  claims  the  praise  they  give. 

HANNAH  MORE. 


Some  hearts  go  hungering  through  the  world, 

And  never  find  the  love  they  seek ; 
Some  lips  with  pride  or  scorn  are  curled, 

To  hide  the  pain  they  may  not  speak ; 
The  eye  may  flash,  the  mouth  may  smile, 

The  voice  in  gladdest  music  thrill, 
And  yet  beneath  them  all  the  while, 

The  hungry  heart  be  pining  still. 

O  eager  eyes  which  gaze  afar  ! 

O  arms  which  clasp  the  empty  air  ! 
Not  all  unmarked  your  sorrows  are, 

Not  all  unpitied  your  despair. 
Smile,  patient  lips,  so  proudly  dumb  ; 

When  life's  frail  tent  at  last  is  furled, 
Your  glorious  recompense  shall  come, 

O  hearts  that  hunger  through  the  world  ! 

ANONYMOUS. 

[35] 


JANUARY   THIRTIETH. 

THE  lesson  of  submission  is  one  of  the  hardest  we 
have  to  learn.  It  is  so  pleasant  to  have  our  own 
way  about  things,  and  so  hard  for  us  to  yield  our  will 
to  others.  Yet  submission  must  come,  sooner  or  later, 
to  us  all.  You  may  resolve  to  do  just  as  you  please  in 
this  world,  but  if  you  find  it  possible  to  do  this  — 
and  very  few  do  —  you  will  be  selfish  and  unhappy. 
"  For  even  Christ  pleased  not  Himself,"  we  are  told, 
and  is  not  He  our  example  ?  To  live  for  self  alone, 
when  all  humanity  is  crying  out  to  us,  —  who  would 
call  it  real  living?  Let  us  learn  the  sweetness  of  self- 
sacrifice  ;  to  do  for  God  as  He  shall  choose,  and  be 
submissive  to  His  choice  ;  to  yield  our  will  to  His,  and 
follow  where  He  leads  us. 

My  God,  my  Father,  while  I  stray, 
Far  from  my  home,  in  life's  rough  way, 
Oh!  teach  me  from  my  heart  to  say, — 
"  Thy  will  be  done." 

Renew  my  will  from  day  to  day ; 
Blend  it  with  Thine  and  take  away 
All  that  now  makes  it  hard  to  say,  — 
"  Thy  will  be  done." 

CHARLOTTE   ELLIOT. 

I  want  a  sober  mind, 

A  self-renouncing  will, 
That  tramples  down  and  casts  behind 

The  baits  of  pleasing  ill ; 
A  spirit  still  prepared, 

And  armed  with  zealous  care, 
Forever  standing  on  its  guard, 

And  watching  unto  prayer. 

CHARLES   WESLEY. 
[36] 


JANUARY   THIRTY-FIRST. 

WHATEVER  else  we  may  be,  let  us  be  charita- 
ble. Think  what  a  happy  world  this  would  be 
if  we  all  exercised  a  spirit  of  charity  towards  each  other  ! 
How  quick  we  are  to  judge  our  fellow-men  —  how  often 
we  misjudge  them ;  we  put  a  wrong  construction  on 
their  words  and  misunderstand  their  actions  and  mo- 
tives. Often  we  complain  of  faithless  friends,  and  ex- 
claim mournfully,  "  There  is  no  one  to  be  trusted :  life 
itself  is  but  a  mockery  ! "  when  it  is  only  because  we  have 
misjudged  our  friends,  and  put  a  wrong  construction 
on  their  actions.  If  life  is  no  more  to  us  than  a  mock- 
ery, we  should  be  ashamed  to  say  it.  Life  is  a  garden 
of  opportunities,  and  if  we  do  not  cull  from  it  what 
God  has  placed  there  for  us,  it  is  no  wonder  our  exist- 
ence seems  useless.  There  is  a  sweetness  in  giving 
that  makes  life  worth  living :  to  be  generous  with  our 
charity  will  not  impoverish  us ;  it  enriches  both  our- 
selves and  our  neighbors. 

Judge  not ;  the  workings  of  his  brain 
And  of  his  heart  thou  canst  not  see ; 

What  looks  to  thy  dim  eyes  a  stain, 
In  God's  pure  light  may  only  be 

A  scar,  brought  from  some  well-won  field, 

Where  thou  wouldst  only  faint  and  yield. 

ADELAIDE  A.    PROCTER. 

The  charities  that  soothe,  and  heal,  and  bless,  are 
scattered  at  the  feet  of  men  like  flowers. 

WORDSWORTH. 

Charity,  decent,  easy,  modest,  kind, 
Softens  the  high,  and  rears  the  abject  mind. 

MATTHEW  PRIOR. 
[37] 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF    FEBRUARY 


FEBRUARY   FIRST. 

I  SING,  O  Year,  of  melting  snows, 
Of  thawing  icebergs  out  at  sea ; 
I  sing  of  Winters  past  and  gone,  — 
I  look  before  and  see  the  dawn 

Of  glorious  Springtimes  yet  to  be  ! 

'Twixt  two  bright  realms  my  lot  is  cast, 
One  where  the  white  world  lies  at  rest ; 

The  other,  waking  out  of  night, 

Is  upward  striving  for  the  light, 
With  flowers  upon  its  breast. 

I  look,  I  wait ;  I  sing  again  — 

O  worlds,  ye  both  are  dear  ! 
Farewell,  white  shores  just  drifting  by : 
Behold,  the  vernal  land  draws  nigh  — 

And  February's  here  ! 

I.   S.   T. 

A  day  of  "  betweens."  After  all,  it  is  the  betweens 
that  make  up  our  daily  lives,  —  the  little  things  that 
creep  in  among  our  duties  and  divide  our  thoughts  for 
a  time,  giving  us  sometimes  a  backward  glance,  and 
sometimes  a  forward  glimpse  into  the  future.  Like 
February,  we,  too,  are  between  the  snows  of  the  past 
and  the  blossoms  of  the  dawning  future :  let  us  find 
something  sweet  to  remember,  and  something  bright 
to  hope  for. 

[38] 


LORD    BYRON 

1788-1824 


FEBRUARY   SECOND. 

a  little  time  to-day  for  self-examination. 
-»-  What  are  you  doing  with  your  life?  Has  it  been 
what  you  intended  it  should  be  ?  Are  you  going  back- 
ward or  forward  ?  Have  you  turned  its  shadows  into 
sunshine  with  your  happy-heartedness,  or  have  you 
invited  the  clouds  in  life's  sky  to  hang  a  little  lower  by 
showing  them  the  clouds  in  your  heart  ?  Clouds  usu- 
ally attract  each  other:  they  drift  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, and  are  swept  by  the  same  breeze  ;  and  the  small 
ones  are  often  caught  up  and  borne  away  by  the  larger 
ones.  Trouble  makes  trouble ;  if  you  do  not  meet  it 
bravely,  you  must  battle  with  weakness  and  cowardice, 
in  addition  to  your  other  burdens.  If  you  are  not 
careful,  you  will  have  all  your  little  troubles  hanging 
over  you  in  a  great  overwhelming  mass.  Better  scat- 
ter them  every  day,  and  let  the  winds  of  Good- nature 
blow  them  away.  Look  on  the  bright  side,  and  make 
your  life  a  bit  of  sunshine. 

So  take  Joy  home, 

And  make  a  place  in  thy  great  heart  for  her, 
And  give  her  time  to  grow,  and  cherish  her ; 
Then  will  she  come,  and  oft  will  sing  to  thee, 
When  thou  art  working  in  the  furrows  ;  ay, 
Or  weeding  in  the  sacred  hour  of  dawn. 
It  is  a  comely  fashion  to  be  glad, — 
Joy  is  the  grace  we  say  to  God. 

JEAN  INGELOW. 

Serene  will  be  our  days  and  bright, 
And  happy  will  our  nature  be, 

When  love  is  an  unerring  light, 
And  joy  its  own  security. 

WORDSWORTH. 

[39] 


FEBRUARY   THIRD. 

THANK  God  for  sympathy  !  It  is  the  firelight  of 
the  soul.  How  it  warms  our  hearts  and  brightens 
our  faces,  and  enkindles  within  us  a  flame  of  gratitude 
and  love  !  Nothing  appeals  to  the  heart  more  than  a 
sympathizing  word,  when  we  are  crushed  by  sorrow,  or 
weighed  down  by  perplexing  cares.  A  tear  of  sym- 
pathy is  like  healing  balm  to  a  broken  spirit,  and  it 
lessens  our  grief  to  know  that  others  share  it  and  make 
it  their  own.  Our  joys,  too,  are  sweeter  when  others 
share  them.  A  man  cannot  well  keep  a  good  laugh  to 
himself;  it  is  contagious,  and  will  spread,  and  broaden 
over  many  faces  besides  his  own. 

Sympathy  is  an  electric  current  with  batteries  all 
over  the  world ;  and  blessed  be  God,  that  He  has  put 
one  in  every  human  heart  ! 


The  look  of  sympathy,  the  gentle  word, 
Spoken  so  low  that  only  angels  heard  ; 
The  secret  act  of  pure  self-sacrifice, 
Unseen  by  man,  but  marked  by  angels'  eyes  — 
These  are  not  lost. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Yet,  taught  by  time,  my  heart  has  learned  to  glow 
For  others'  good,  and  melt  at  others'  woe. 

POPE. 

Pity  and  need 

Make  all  flesh  kin.     There  is  no  caste  in  blood, 
Which  runneth  of  one  hue,  nor  caste  in  tears, 
Which  trickle  salt  with  all. 

EDWIN   ARNOLD. 

[40] 


T 


FEBRUARY   FOURTH. 

HY  Word  is  a  lamp  unto  my  feet,  and  a  light  unto 
my  path.  —  PSALM  1 19 : 105. 


If  we  would  learn  patience,  charity,  kindness,  humil- 
ity, and  forbearance,  let  us  study  the  Bible.  In  it 
are  helps  for  all  our  needs,  balms  for  all  our  ills,  and 
comforts  for  all  our  distresses.  It  teaches  us  how  to 
walk,  that  our  steps  may  go  in  the  right  direction ;  it 
tells  us  how  to  order  our  conversation  aright ;  it  edu- 
cates our  souls  for  the  sacred  school  of  Eternity,  and 
on  its  grand,  strong  promises  we  may  rest  our  hopes  of 
Heaven.  It  is  a  comfort  when  other  comforts  fail,  a 
stronghold  in  danger  and  temptation,  and  a  light  in 
darkness.  If  we  live  by  the  teachings  of  the  Bible,  our 
lives  will  be  full  of  quiet  content  and  true  happiness, 
and  our  inheritance  shall  be  a  crown  of  rejoicing. 

The  Bible  !  that's  the  Book,  the  Book  indeed, 

The  Book  of  books, 

On  which  who  looks, 
As  he  should  do,  aright,  shall  never  need 

Wish  for  a  better  light 

To  guide  him  in  the  night. 


It  is  the  index  to  Eternity ; 

He  cannot  miss 

Of  endless  bliss 
That  takes  this  chart  to  steer  his  voyage  by, 

Nor  can  he  be  mistook 

That  speaketh  by  this  Book. 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 
[41] 


FEBRUARY   FIFTH. 

A  TRAVELLER   through   a   dusty   road   strewed 
acorns  on  the  lea ; 
And  one  took  root  and  sprouted  up,  and  grew  into  a 

tree. 
Love  sought  its  shade,  at  evening-time,  to  breathe  its 

early  vows, 
And  age  was  pleased,  in  heats  of  noon,  to  bask  beneath 

its  boughs ; 
The  dormouse   loved   its   dangling  twigs,   the  birds 

sweet  music  bore ; 
It  stood  a  glory  in  its  place,  a  blessing  evermore. 

A  little  spring  had  lost  its  way  amid  the  grass  and  fern, 
A  passing  stranger  scooped  a  well,  where  weary  man 

might  turn ; 
He  walled  it  in,  and  hung  with   care  a  ladle  at  the 

brink ; 
He  thought  not  of  the  deed  he  did,  but  judged  that 

toil  might  drink. 
He  passed  again,  and  lo  !  the  well,  by  summers  never 

dried, 
Had  cooled  ten  thousand  parching  tongues,  and  saved 

a  life  beside. 

A  dreamer  dropped  a  random  thought ;  'twas  old,  and 

yet  'twas  new ; 

A  simple  fancy  of  the  brain,  but  strong  in  being  true  : 
It  shone  upon  a  genial  mind,  and  lo  !  its  light  became 
A  lamp  of  life,  a  beacon  ray,  a  monitory  flame. 
The  thought  was  small,  its  issue  great ;  a  watch-fire 

on  the  hill, 
It  sheds  its  radiance  far  adown,  and  cheers  the  valley 

still ! 

CHARLES  MACKAY. 
[42] 


FEBRUARY    SIXTH. 

WELL,  and  don't  we  all  have  burdens?  Have 
you  any  one's  share  but  your  own  ?  You  may 
think  yours  heavier  than  your  neighbor's,  but  your 
neighbor,  very  likely,  wouldn't  agree  with  you.  We 
all  complain  of  our  crosses,  and  tell  other  people  about 
them,  when  they  have  their  own  to  carry,  and  imagine 
ours  small  in  comparison.  Cheerfulness  is  a  great 
burden-bearer.  Drink  in  a  draught  of  it  with  the  first 
breath  of  fresh  air  in  the  morning,  and  you've  no  idea 
how  it  will  exhilarate  and  refresh  you.  It  lifts  you 
above  the  everyday  trials  and  annoyances,  and  fills 
your  heart  with  sunshine,  and  your  lips  with  a  song. 
Burdens  are  a  part  of  our  discipline ;  they  belong  to 
our  fate.  And  who  could  govern  all  our  fate,  save 
God? 

Let  those  deplore  their  doom 
Whose  hope  still  grovels  in  this  dark  sojourn ; 
But  lofty  souls,  who  look  beyond  the  tomb, 
Can  smile  at  Fate,  and  wonder  how  they  mourn. 

BEATTIE. 

Thus  would  I  double  my  life's  fading  space, 
For  he  that  runs  it  well,  twice  runs  his  race. 

And  in  this  true  delight, 
These  unbought  sports,  that  happy  state, 
I  would  not  fear  nor  wish  my  fate, 

But  boldly  say  each  night, 
To-morrow  let  my  sun  his  beams  display, 
Or  in  clouds  hide  them  ;  I  have  lived  to-day. 

ABRAHAM   COWLEV. 

To  bear  is  to  conquer  our  fate. 

CAMPBELL. 

[43] 


FEBRUARY   SEVENTH. 

Behold  I 

How  short  a  span 
Was  long  enough  of  old 
To  measure  out  the  life  of  man! 
In  those  well-tempered  days  his  time  was  then 
Survey'd,  cast  up,  and  found  but  threescore  years  and 
ten. 

Our  days 
Begun,  we  lend 
To  sleep,  to  antic  plays 
And  toys,  until  the  first  stage  end  : 
Twelve  waning  moons,  twice  five  times  told,  we 

give 
To  unrecover'd  loss  —  we  rather  breathe  than  live. 


How  soon 
Our  new-born  light 
Attains  to  full-aged  noon  ! 
And  this,  how  soon  to  grey-haired  night! 
We  spring,  we  bud,  we  blossom,  and  we  blast, 
Ere  we  can  count  our  days,  our  days  they  flee  so  fast. 


They  end 

When  scarce  begun, 
And  ere  we  apprehend 
That  we  begin  to  live,  our  life  is  done. 
Man !  count  thy  days  ;  and  if  they  fly  too  fast 
For  thy  dull  thoughts  to  count,  count  every  day  thy 
last. 

FRANCIS  QUARLES.      (1592.) 
[44] 


FEBRUARY   EIGHTH. 

ISN'T  it  sweet  to  think  of  the  recompense  that  shall 
be  ours  in  God's  beautiful  Hereafter?  In  doing 
our  best,  we  are  scattering  seed  for  His  great  Harvest ; 
and  though  sometimes  we  water  them  with  tears,  He 
sends  down  the  sunlight  of  His  love,  and  quickens 
them  into  springing  fields  of  grain.  God  never  forgets 
nor  loses  sight  of  His  own,  nor  will  He  be  satisfied  with 
work  half  done.  He  expects  us  to  do  our  best,  and 
nothing  short  of  that  will  meet  with  His  acceptance. 

A  child's  kiss 

Set  on  thy  sighing  lips  shall  make  thee  glad  ; 
A  poor  man  served  by  thee,  shall  make  thee  rich  ; 
A  sick  man  helped  by  thee,  shall  make  thee  strong ; 
Thou  shalt  be  served  thyself  by  every  sense 
Of  service  which  thou  renderest. 

E.  B.  BROWNING. 

May  I  reach 

That  purest  heaven,  be  to  other  souls 
The  cup  of  strength  in  some  great  agony, 
Enkindle  generous  ardour,  feed  pure  love, 
Be  the  sweet  presence  of  a  good  diffused, 
And  in  diffusion  ever  more  intense ! 
So  shall  I  join  the  choir  invisible, 
Whose  music  is  the  gladness  of  the  world. 

GEORGE   ELIOT. 

Oh,  dream  no  more  of  quiet  life ; 
Care  finds  the  careless  out ;  more  wise  to  vow 

Thy  heart  entire  to  faith's  pure  strife ; 
So  peace  will  come,  thou  knowest  not  when  or  how. 

LYRA    APOSTOLICA. 
[45] 


FEBRUARY   NINTH. 

IF  we  can  only  keep  our  hearts  young,  we  shall 
never  really  grow  old.  Let  the  forehead  wear  its 
wrinkles,  if  it  must,  but  keep  them  out  of  the  heart. 
Smooth  away  all  the  unkind  thoughts  and  feelings,  and 
do  not  allow  the  worries  to  rankle  and  drive  out  all  the 
good  there  is  in  you.  Live  in  the  sunlight  of  love  — 
it  keeps  you  young  and  sweet-tempered.  Soar  above 
annoyances ;  if  you  continually  carry  them  with  you, 
you  will  grow  old  before  your  time  —  yes,  old  and  tired 
and  disagreeable.  We  don't  mind  an  old  face ;  wrinkles 
and  white  hair  are  beautiful  if  there  is  a  young  heart 
back  of  them.  It  is  a  grand  thing  to  be  able  to  grow 
old  graciously,  and  the  way  to  do  it  is  to  keep  the 
heart  young. 

When  Victor  Hugo  was  past  eighty  years  of  age  he 
gave  expression  to  his  religious  faith  in  these  sublime 
sentences  :  "  I  feel  in  myself  the  future  life.  I  am  like 
a  forest  which  has  been  more  than  once  cut  down. 
The  new  shoots  are  livelier  than  ever.  I  am  rising 
toward  the  sky.  The  sunshine  is  on  my  head.  The 
earth  gives  me  its  generous  sap,  but  Heaven  lights  me 
with  its  unknown  worlds.  You  say  the  soul  is  nothing 
but  the  resultant  of  the  bodily  powers.  Why,  then,  is 
my  soul  the  more  luminous  when  my  bodily  powers 
begin  to  fail?  Winter  is  on  my  head  and  eternal 
spring  is  in  my  heart." 

The  stars  shall  fade  away,  the  sun  himself 
Grow  dim  with  age,  and  nature  sink  in  years ; 
But  thou  shalt  flourish  in  immortal  youth, 
Unhurt  amidst  the  war  of  elements, 
The  wreck  of  matter,  and  the  crush  of  worlds. 

ADDISON. 

[46] 


FEBRUARY   TENTH. 

MY  Conscience  is  my  crown, 
Contented  thoughts  my  rest ; 
My  heart  is  happy  in  itself, 
My  bliss  is  in  my  breast. 

I  feel  no  care  of  coin, 

Well-doing  is  my  wealth ; 
My  mind  to  me  an  empire  is, 

While  grace  affordeth  health. 

SOUTHWELL. 


What  a  song  of  Content,  Southwell  sings!  It  leads 
to  a  kingdom  which  money  or  birth  could  not  purchase. 
To  wear  the  crown  of  a  good  conscience,  and  to 
possess  a  mind  broader  and  richer  than  an  empire,  is 
enough  to  inspire  one  to  write  a  song  which  shall  echo 
down  the  ages,  and  sing  itself  into  the  hearts  of  all 
nations.  Oh,  to  be  satisfied  with  our  lot  in  life  is  a 
rare,  sweet  thing. 

My  house  a  cottage,  more 
Than  palace,  and  should  fitted  be 
For  all  my  use,  no  luxury. 

My  garden  painted  o'er 

With  Nature's  hand,  not  Art's  ;  and  pleasures  yield, 
Horace  might  envy  in  his  Sabine  field. 

ABRAHAM  COWLEY. 

It  conduces  much  to  our  content,  if  we  pass  by  those 
things  which  happen  to  our  trouble,  and  consider  that 
which  is  pleasing  and  prosperous ;  that,  by  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  better,  the  worse  may  be  blotted  out. 

JEREMY   TAYLOR. 
[47] 


FEBRUARY   ELEVENTH. 

OUR  To-morrows  !  What  heart  would  be  without 
them  ?  In  childhood,  they  are  as  rosy-hued  as 
the  dawn,  and  we  run  to  meet  them  —  our  glad  young 
feet  as  swift  as  though  on  soaring  wings.  Care-free 
and  happy,  we  close  our  sleepy  eyes  at  night,  our  last 
fond  thought  of  the  coming  day,  our  golden  dreams 
made  bright,  by  that  one  sweet  hope  —  to-morrow  ! 

In  life's  grave  prime,  we  look  forward  with  less 
eagerness  to  the  dawn  of  our  to-morrows.  Time  has 
become  a  reality,  and  the  earnestness  of  living  and 
being  fill  us  with  an  awed  curiosity,  as  we  think  of 
each  coming  day. 

Contact  with  the  world  has  robbed  us  of  some  of  our 
childish  faith,  I  grieve  to  say,  but  a  calm  courage  pos- 
sesses us,  and  we  go  forth  with  resolution  to  meet 
to-morrow  bravely,  be  it  what  it  may. 

And  when  the  years  have  gathered  on  our  heads,  and 
left  their  silver  threads  above  our  brows,  the  eager 
hopes  of  youth,  the  courage  of  our  older  years,  and  all 
that  made  us  long  for  bright  to-morrows,  shall  merge 
into  a  restful  peace — the  waiting-time  of  life — when 
we  shall  listen  for  our  Lord  to  softly  call,  "  Dear  tired 
Heart,  look  up  and  see  the  dawn  —  'tis  God's  To-mor- 
row." 

How  oft  my  guardian  angel  gently  cried, 

"  Soul,  from  thy  casement  look,  and  thou  shalt  see 

How  he  persists  to  knock  and  wait  for  thee! " 

And  oh !  how  often  to  that  voice  of  sorrow, 
"  To-morrow  we  will  open,"  I  replied, 

And  when  to-morrow  came  I  answered  still, 
"To-morrow." 

TR.  FROM  LOPE   DE  VEGA. 
[48] 


FEBRUARY   TWELFTH. 

T)ERHAPS  the  reason  we  make  so  many  mistakes 
-t  is  because  we  do  not  fully  understand  ourselves, 
and  each  other.  We  are  more  intent  on  fathoming 
God's  great  mysteries,  and  searching  out  His  plans, 
than  on  studying  man  and  man's  needs.  Had  the 
Author  of  our  being  thought  best,  He  would  have 
revealed  to  us  His  heavenly  secrets,  but  in  His  all- 
wisdom  He  bids  us  leave  the  future  in  His  keeping, 
and  have  faith  in  Him.  He  has  given  us  life  —  His 
grandest  creation ;  He  has  given  us  our  brother-man 
to  encourage,  to  help,  and  to  uplift,  so  that  we  may 
travel  together  the  Upward  Way  and  find  pleasant 
companionship.  Let  us  therefore  make  it  our  object 
to  find  the  best  that  is  in  our  neighbor,  learn  how  to 
make  our  pilgrimage  a  happy  one,  and  render  ourselves 
as  congenial  as  possible.  We  must  understand  our- 
selves first,  and  as  all  humanity  has  kmdred  feelings, 
we  will  then  be  better  able  to  understand  our  fellow-men. 

Man  is  his  own  star,  and  that  soul  that  can 
Be  honest,  is  the  only  perfect  man. 

BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER. 

Without  our  hopes,  without  our  fears, 
Without  our  home  that  plighted  love  endears, 
Without  the  smile  from  partial  beauty  won, 
Oh !  what  were  man  ?  —  a  world  without  a  sun. 

CAMPBELL. 

Man  stands  in  the  centre  of  Nature ;  his  fraction  of 
Time  encircled  by  Eternity  ;  his  handbreadth  of  Space 
encircled  by  Infinitude.  — CARLYLE. 
[49] 


FEBRUARY   THIRTEENTH. 

O"  MARINERS  of  England,"  how  loyal  and  how 
brave  you  are  !  As  over  the  bright  blue  ocean 
you  speed  and  speed  away,  you  ever  keep  floating 
above  you  the  flag  of  your  own  native  land.  With 
jealous  care  you  guard  the  shores  you  love,  and  turn 
your  longing  eyes  to  catch  a  lingering  glimpse  of  home, 
the  England  of  the  world.  You  could  not  brave  the 
stormy  wind  with  half  the  courage  which  you  do,  had 
you  not  such  principles  of  love  and  loyalty  as  beat 
with  every  bounding  pulse,  and  strengthen  with  each 
breath  you  draw.  For  the  sake  of  dear  old  England 
you  brave  danger,  risk  life,  and,  leaving  behind  the 
sweet  delights  of  home,  go  forth  to  buffet  with  the 
perils  of  the  mighty  deep.  Oh,  long  live  the  British 
mariners,  and  may  they  face  the  waves  of  Life  with  as 
brave  hearts  and  true  as  any  waves  that  rise  at  sea ! 

Ye  mariners  of  England, 

That  guard  our  native  seas  ; 

Whose  flag  has  braved  a  thousand  years 

The  battle  and  the  breeze  ! 

Your  glorious  standard  launch  again 

To  match  another  foe  ! 

And  sweep  through  the  deep, 

While  the  stormy  winds  do  blow ; 

While  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long, 

And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow. 

Britannia  needs  no  bulwarks, 

No  towers  along  the  steep  ; 

Her  march  is  o'er  the  mountain-waves, 

Her  home  is  on  the  deep. 

THOMAS   CAMPBELL. 
[50] 


FEBRUARY   FOURTEENTH. 

HAIL  to  thy  returning  festival,  old  Bishop  Valen- 
tine !   Great  is  thy  name  in  the  rubric.    Like  unto 
thee,  assuredly,  there  is  no  other  mitred  father  in  the 
calendar.  —  LAMB. 


Apollo  has  peeped  through  the  shutter, 
And  waken'd  the  witty  and  fair ; 
The  boarding-school  belle's  in  a  flutter, 
The  twopenny  post's  in  despair ; 
The  breath  of  the  morning  is  flinging 
A  magic  on  blossom  and  spray, 
And  cockneys  and  sparrows  are  singing 
In  chorus  on  Valentine's  day. 

PRAED. 

On  paper  curiously  shaped, 
Scribblers  to-day  of  every  sort, 
In  verses  Valentine's  y'clep'd, 
To  Venus  chime  their  annual  court. 
I,  too,  will  swell  the  motley  throng, 
And  greet  the  all-auspicious  day, 
Whose  privilege  permits  my  song, 
My  love  thus  secret  to  convey. 

HENRY  C.   BOHN. 

I  give  you  greeting!  for  this  is  St.  Valentine's  day. 
Let  your  heart  open  a  little  wider ;  make  room  for  a 
few  more  who  need  loving ;  give  out  more  light  and 
heat  —  you've  plenty  to  spare.  Hearts  that  are  bright 
and  warm  are  royal  fireplaces  for  cold  humanity.  This 
is  the  sort  of  a  Valentine  we  all  want  to  be,  —  a  Valen- 
tine of  love  and  happiness. 


FEBRUARY   FIFTEENTH. 

*  I  "HERE  are  so  many  ways  in  which  we  can  make 
A  others  happy.  If  we  are  willing  to  practise  a  little 
self-denial,  we  will  find  plenty  of  opportunity  to  speak 
a  kindly  word,  or  do  a  friendly  deed.  Don't  be  so  ab- 
sorbed in  your  business  affairs  that  you  fail  to  say 
"good  morning"  to  a  friend  when  you  pass  him  on 
the  street.  The  man  who  goes  about  with  his  head 
too  high  to  see  common  humanity,  will  sometime  find 
himself  wondering  why  he  has  so  few  real  friends. 
And  the  man  who  passes  to  and  fro  with  his  eyes  bent 
on  the  ground,  will  some  day  discover  that  he  has 
missed  a  great  deal,  because  he  failed  to  look  any 
higher  than  the  sidewalk.  If  you  want  to  be  alone, 
select  a  retired  street,  where  you  can  meditate  undis- 
turbed, but  don't  pass  your  neighbor  by  without  see- 
ing him  —  you  can't  afford  to  be  discourteous.  Come 
out  of  yourself;  and  don't  creep  like  a  snail,  if  you  are 
a  preacher  or  a  professor;  on  the  other  hand,  don't 
flash  along  like  a  meteor,  if  you  are  a  business  man. 
You  cannot  carry  your  church  or  school  in  your  head, 
neither  can  you  bear  your  warehouse  or  bank  on  your 
shoulders.  When  on  the  street,  you  are  only  a  man 
among  men.  People  don't  care  half  as  much  who  you 
are,  as  what  you  are :  if  you  are  cordial  in  your  greet- 
ing, and  friendly  in  your  manner,  it  will  do  the  world 
good  if  you  look  it  squarely  in  the  face  and  say  "  good 
morning." 

Oh,  if  the  selfish  knew  how  much  they  lost, 
What  would  they  not  endeavor,  not  endure, 
To  imitate,  as  far  as  in  them  lay, 
Him,  who  His  wisdom  and  His  power  employs 
In  making  others  happy! 

SAMUEL  ROGERS. 
[5=0 


FEBRUARY    SIXTEENTH. 

"T  EAD  us  not  into  temptation."  Every  day  has 
J— '  its  own  temptations,  without  and  within.  If, 
like  our  Redeemer  when  He  was  tempted,  we  can  put 
them  behind  us,  we  shall  be  able  to  go  on  our  way 
rejoicing.  Oh,  the  little  temptations  swarm  like  bees 
about  us,  and  when  we  rob  them  of  their  honey  they 
always  leave  a  sting.  It  is  only  when  we  keep  busy 
with  our  appointed  tasks,  and  are  doing  our  best  in 
the  hive  where  God  has  placed  us,  that  we  can  escape 
being  stung  by  the  temptations  that  come  to  us  from 
unfriendly  hives.  Armed  with  the  shield  of  Prayer, 
the  stings  shall  glance  off,  and  leave  no  scar,  and  ours 
shall  be  the  victory  of  overcoming. 


In  the  hour  of  dread  temptation 

When  the  serpent's  voice  shall  call, 
Lest  we  list  to  its  allurements, — 

Lest  we  weakly  faint  or  fall ; 
Be  Thou  near,  O  gracious  Father, 

Lead  the  feet  that  fain  would  stray 
Into  some  forbidden  pathway, 

Back  to  safety's  narrow  way. 

Even  as  the  little  children 

Fly,  when  aught  their  fears  alarm, 
To  the  often  tried  protection 

Of  an  earthly  parent's  arm  — 
So  Thy  children  call  upon  Thee, 

When  life's  shadows  darkly  fall, 
Who  alone  can  keep  us  scathless,  — 

Gracious  Father  of  us  all! 

HELEN  MARION  BURNSIDE. 

[53] 


FEBRUARY   SEVENTEENTH. 

THE  Lord  watch  between  me  and  thee  when  we  are 
absent  one  from  another.  —  GENESIS  31  :  49. 

How  thankful  must  the  Israelites  have  been  for  the 
guidance  of  the  pillar  of  fire !  We  can  imagine  that 
mighty  throng  moving  on  and  on  in  their  pilgrimage, 
sometimes  murmuring  and  complaining,  sometimes 
singing  and  praising  God,  yet  marching  ever  nearer  to 
the  Promised  Land,  beneath  the  radiance  of  that  fiery 
symbol.  And  when,  at  night,  they  pitched  their  tents, 
it  must  have  been  a  magnificent  spectacle  —  the  great 
army  grouped  about  in  tented  silence,  with  that  won- 
drous sign  —  God's  loving  "Mizpah  "  —  set,  like  a  seal, 
in  the  midst  of  the  starry  heavens.  We,  too,  are  tread- 
ing homeward  to  the  Canaan-Land  :  in  the  desert  and 
wilderness  of  life,  like  the  Israelites  of  old,  we  have  our 
Mizpah-light  to  lead  us  onward  and  upward  to  the 
"rest  that  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God." 

In  absence,  when  the  day-star  shineth, 
Tho'  far  apart  our  paths  may  be, 

I  ask  His  daily  presence  with  us  — 
The  Lord  keep  watch  'tween  me  and  thee. 

At  night-fall,  when  the  sun  declineth, 
And  shadows  fall  on  earth  and  sea, 

Oh,  may  He  hide  us  'neath  His  refuge, 
And  still  keep  watch  'tween  me  and  thee  ! 

Forever  with  us !  tho'  we  sever ; 
His  shelt'ring  love  shall  be  my  plea  — 

Until  we  meet  again,  beseeching, 
The  Lord  keep  watch  'tween  me  and  thee! 

IDA   SCOTT   TAYLOR. 
[54] 


FEBRUARY   EIGHTEENTH. 

WE  can  put  our  own  interpretation  on  the  word 
Duty ;  it  means  just  what  we  want  it  to.  It  is 
either  a  hard,  stern  task-master,  or  a  gentle  leader, 
whose  kind  approval  is  always  awaiting  us,  —  a  sure 
reward  for  everything  cheerfully  and  willingly  done. 
There  is  no  task  which  may  not  be  finished,  no  burden 
which  shall  not  be  lifted,  no  cloud  that  shall  not  be 
dispersed,  and  no  night  that  hath  not  its  glorious  dawn. 
Sometime,  sometime,  we  shall  be  able  to  fully  realize 
this,  and  understand  that  there  is  "  an  end  to  all  things 
under  the  sun."  Let  us  go  on  then,  doing  the  duty 
nearest,  sweetening  each  task  with  a  smile,  and  doing 
with  our  might  what  our  hands  find  to  do.  If  we 
make  Duty  a  pleasure,  it  will  be  far  easier  for  us. 
Each  person  is  a  hero  in  the  eyes  of  God  if  he  is  ac- 
tively engaged  in  doing  his  best.  Go  bravely  for- 
ward, meet  and  surmount  every  difficulty :  put  your 
hand  into  the  hand  of  God. 

Long  though  my  task  may  be, 

Cometh  the  end. 
God  His  that  helpeth  me, 
His  is  the  work,  and  He 

New  strength  will  lend. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Time  is  indeed  a  precious  boon, 
But  with  the  boon  a  task  is  given  ; 

The  heart  must  learn  its  duty  well, 
To  man  on  earth  and  God  in  Heaven. 

ELIZA  COOK. 

In  common  things  the  law  of  sacrifice  takes  the  form 
of  positive  duty.  — FROUDE. 
[55] 


FEBRUARY    NINETEENTH. 

HHHE  firefly  only  shines  when  on  the  wing ; 
J-     So  with  the  mind  ;  when  once  we  rest,  we  darken. 

BAILEY. 

The  world  is  the  school-room  of  the  mind :  in  it  are 
gathered  classified  volumes  in  poetry  and  prose,  where 
we  read  and  study  to  our  heart's  content.  The  sea  is 
a  nautical  library :  the  beat  of  its  waves  is  a  lyric  poem, 
and  the  thunder  of  its  mighty  breakers  is  a  sermon  of 
majestic  sweetness.  The  sky  is  rich  in  its  collection  of 
songs  and  sonnets,  and  in  its  deep,  thoughtful,  astro- 
nomical works.  The  woods  and  hills,  and  valleys  and 
plains,  are  Nature's  own  books,  written  out  by  the  hand 
of  God.  The  mines  of  silver  and  gold  are  volumes  of 
hidden  love,  which  need  to  be  brought  to  the  light  if 
we  would  read  their  meaning.  Man  is  the  speaking 
book  of  God,  his  mind  and  soul  the  voice  of  God,  his 
life  a  reflection  of  God,  and  his  only  salvation  the  Son 
of  God. 

Creator  !  Yes  !  Thy  wisdom  and  Thy  word 
Created  me.     Thou  source  of  life  and  good  ; 

Thou  Spirit  of  my  spirit,  and  my  Lord ; 

Thy  light,  Thy  love,  in  their  bright  plenitude, 

Filled  me  with  an  immortal  soul  to  spring 
O'er  the  abyss  of  death,  and  bade  it  wear 

The  garments  of  eternal  day,  and  wing 

Its  heavenly  flight  beyond  this  little  sphere  — 
Even  to  its  source  —  to  Thee,  its  Author —  there. 
JOHN  BOWRING  (Tr.  from  the  Russian) . 

A  little  philosophy  inclineth  a  man's  mind  to  athe- 
ism, but  depth  in  philosophy  bringeth   men's   minds 
about  to  religion.  —  BACON. 
[56] 


FEBRUARY   TWENTIETH. 


your  author  as  you  choose  your  friend.  — 
^  ROSCOMMON. 

Reading  is  to  the  mind  what  exercise  is  to  the  body. 
As  by  the  one,  health  is  preserved,  strengthened,  and 
invigorated,  by  the  other,  virtue  (which  is  the  health 
of  the  mind)  is  kept  alive,  cherished,  and  confirmed.  — 

ADDISON. 

The  mind,  relaxing  into  needful  sport, 
Should  turn  to  writers  of  an  abler  sort, 
Whose  wit  well  managed,  and  whose  classic  style, 
Give  truth  a  lustre,  and  make  wisdom  smile. 

COWPER. 

Read  not  to  contradict  and  confute,  nor  to  believe 
and  take  for  granted,  not  to  talk  and  discourse,  but  to 
weigh  and  consider.  .  .  .  Some  books  are  to  be  read 
only  in  parts ;  others  to  be  read,  but  not  curiously ; 
and  some  few  to  be  read  wholly,  and  with  diligence  and 
attention.  —  BACON. 

All  rests  with  those  who  read,  a  work  or  thought 
Is  what  makes  it  to  himself,  and  may 
Be  full  of  great  dark  meanings,  like  the  sea, 
With  shoals  of  life  rushing. 

BAILEY. 


Learn  to  read  slow  ;  all  other  graces 
Will  follow  in  their  proper  places. 

WM.  WALKER. 

[57] 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-FIRST. 

A  DAY  AMONG  THE  CLOUDS. 

OH,  it  is  pleasant,  with  a  heart  at  ease, 
Just  after  sunset,  or  by  moonlight  skies, 
To  make  the  shifting  clouds  be  what  you  please, 

Or  let  the  easily-persuaded  eyes 
Own  each  quaint  likeness  issuing  from  the  world 
Of  a  friend's  fancy. 

COLERIDGE. 

What  beautiful  things  we  behold  in  the  clouds  ! 
Ever  shifting  and  changing,  and  drifting  about  in  the 
great  blue  sea  of  the  sky,  they  float  above  us  —  these 
fair,  white  mysteries  —  spreading  their  airy  wings  and 
bearing  away  our  sweetest  dreams  to  be  lost  in  the 
silence  of  some  unknown  world. 

Oh,  many  gilded  palaces  and  stately  castles  have  we 
erected  in  the  sunny  skies,  builded  only  of  the  frail, 
inconstant  clouds.  With  every  breeze  our  structures 
have  tumbled  from  their  dizzy  heights  and  been  wrecked 
before  our  eyes,  but  then  we  only  smile  and  build  again. 
Our  sweetest,  purest  thoughts  take  wing  among  the 
clouds,  for  God  is  in  their  midst,  and  angels  round 
aboat. 

I  bring  fresh  showers  for  the  thirsty  flowers, 

From  the  seas  and  the  streams ; 
I  bear  light  shade  for  the  leaves  when  laid 

In  their  noonday  dreams. 
From  my  wings  are  shaken  the  dews  that  waken 

The  sweet  birds  every  one, 
When  rocked  to  rest  on  their  mother's  breast, 

As  she  dances  about  the  sun. 

SHELLEY. 

[58] 


FEBRUARY  TWENTY-SECOND. 

*"  I  "'HERE  is  a  great  deal  said  nowadays  about  "  color- 
-*-  blindness  "  ;  this,  however,  refers  to  the  physical 
vision,  but  mental  color-blindness  is  even  worse  than 
that.  It  is  a  far  greater  calamity  to  be  unable  to  dis- 
tinguish any  color  but  one  —  and  that  the  hue  to  our 
own  imaginary  loveliness  ;  for  loveliness  is  always  im- 
aginary when  only  one  person  is  aware  of  it.  If  you 
are  a  true  artist,  you  will  find  the  shadow  as  well  as  the 
light.  Train  your  mental  vision  to  detect  both ;  bring 
them  into  better  harmony.  Soften  your  shadows  a 
little ;  get  your  background  ready  for  the  bright  tints, 
then  leave  God  to  add  the  high  lights. 

There  are  no  shadows  where  there  is  no  sun ; 
There  is  no  beauty  where  there  is  no  shade ; 
And  all  things  in  two  lines  of  glory  run, 
Darkness  and  light,  ebon  and  gold  inlaid. 

F.    W.    FABER. 

f 

I   know  the   Hand   that   is  guiding  me  through  the 

shadow  to  the  light, 

And  I  know  that  all  betiding  me  is  meted  out  aright ; 
I  know  that  the  thorny  path  I   tread   is   ruled  by  a 

golden  line, 
And  I  know  that  the  darker  Iife1s  tangled  thread,  the 

richer  the  deep  design. 

BRITISH   EVANGELIST. 

Our  little  systems  have  their  day : 

They  have  their  day  and  cease  to  be ; 
They  are  but  broken  lights  of  Thee, 

And  Thou,  O  Lord,  art  more  than  they. 

TENNYSON. 

[59] 


FEBRUARY  TWENTY-THIRD. 

'  I  ^HOU  earnest  not  to  thy  place  by  accident, 
•*•     It  is  the  very  place  God  meant  for  thee. 

R.    C.    TRENCH. 

Adapt  yourselves  to  circumstances  ;  get  into  harmony 
with  your  surroundings,  or  you  will  be  miserable.  If 
your  circumstances  are  above  you,  work  up  to  them ; 
educate  your  mind  and  tastes  up  to  a  higher  plane : 
keep  rising,  it  is  a  positive  disgrace  to  go  downward 
or  backward  in  this  progressive  world  of  ours.  If 
your  circumstances  are  beneath  you,  lift  them  up :  this 
is  not  asking  too  much  of  you  —  it  has  been  done  often. 
I  have  seen  such  dignity  and  refinement  in  the  midst 
of  abject  poverty  as  lends  itself  to  every  faded  object 
in  a  room.  There  is  nothing  in  an  atmosphere  of  true 
gentility  and  nobleness,  but  what  catches  a  bit  of  the 
spirit  of  its  surroundings.  The  touch  of  refinement 
stamps  itself  on  all  with  which  it  comes  in  contact.  If 
you  are  gracious  yourself,  your  belongings,  no  matter 
how  poor  they  are,  will  unconsciously  become  a  part  of 
you.  Dignify  your  surroundings  and  they  will  honor 
you,  and  make  you  more  beautiful  by  contrast. 

The  thing  which  must  be,  must  be  for  the  best ; 
God  helps  us  do  our  duty  and  not  shrink, 
And  trust  His  mercy  humbly  for  the  rest. 

OWEN   MEREDITH. 

Instead  of  saying  that  man  is  the  creature  of  circum- 
stances, it  would  be  nearer  the  mark  to  say  that  man  is 
the  architect  of  circumstances.  It  is  character  which 
builds  an  existence  out  of  circumstances.  Our  strength 
is  measured  by  our  plastic  power.  —  GEORGE  H.  LEWES. 
[60] 


FEBRUARY  TWENTY-FOURTH. 

SOME  writer  describes  beauty  thus  :  "  All  along  the 
isles  of  earth,  all  over  the  arches  of  Heaven,  all 
through  the  expanses  of  the  universe,  are  scattered  in 
rich  and  infinite  profusion  the  life-germs  of  beauty. 
All  natural  motion  is  beauty  in  action.  From  the 
mote  that  plays  its  little  frolic  in  the  sunbeam,  to  the 
world  that  blazes  along  the  sapphire  of  the  firmament, 
are  visible  the  ever-varying  features  of  the  enrapturing 
spirit  of  beauty." 

Who  doth  not  feel,  until  his  failing  sight 
Faints  into  dimness  with  its  own  delight, 
His  changing  cheek,  his  sinking  heart  confess, 
The  might,  the  majesty  of  Loveliness  ? 

BYRON. 

The  beauty  that  addresses  itself  to  the  eyes  is  only 
the  spell  of  the  moment ;  the  eye  of  the  body  is  not 
always  that  of  the  soul.  —  GEORGE  SAND. 

A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever ; 
Its  loveliness  increases  ;  it  will  never 
Pass  into  nothingness ;  but  still  will  keep 
A  bower  of  quiet  for  us,  and  a  sleep 
Full  of  sweet  dreams,  and  health,  and  quiet  breathing. 

KEATS. 

For  when  with  beauty  we  can  virtue  join, 
We  paint  the  semblance  of  a  point  divine. 

PRIOR. 


Beauty  is  truth,  truth  beauty. 

KEATS. 
[61] 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

WE  are  builders,  and  each  one 
Should  cut  and  carve  as  best  he  can. 
Every  life  is  but  a  stone, 
Every  one  shall  hew  his  own. 
Make  or  mar  shall  every  man. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Character-building  requires  patience,  perseverance, 
and  care.  To  build  well,  select  the  Firm  Foundation 
—  Christ.  Let  no  day  pass  without  some  progress. 

Master!  to  do  great  work  for  Thee,  my  hand 
Is  far  too  weak.     Thou  givest  what  may  suit  — 
Some  little  chips  to  cut  with  care  minute, 

Or  tint,  or  grave,  or  polish.     Others  stand 

Before  their  quarried  marble,  fair  and  grand, 
And  make  a  life-work  of  the  great  design 
Which  Thou  hast  traced  ;  or,  many-skilled,  combine 

To  build  vast  temples,  gloriously  planned, 

Yet  take  the  tiny  stones  which  I  have  wrought, 
Just  one  by  one,  as  they  were  given  by  Thee, 

Not  knowing  what  came  next  in  Thy  wise  thought. 

Set  each  stone  by  Thy  master-hand  of  grace, 
For  the  mosaic  as  Thou  wilt,  for  me, 

And  in  Thy  temple-pavement  give  it  place. 

FRANCES    RIDLEY   HAVERGAL. 

Fling  wide  the  portals  of  your  heart, 
Make  it  a  temple  set  apart 
From  earthly  use  for  Heaven's  employ, 
Adorned  with  prayer,  and  love,  and  joy. 
So  shall  your  Sovereign  enter  in, 
And  new  and  nobler  life  begin. 

WEISZEL. 
[62] 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

A  DAY  by  the  fireside!  Draw  the  blind  a  little,  and 
shut  out  the  outside  world :  only  leave  a  faint 
glimmer,  to  light  the  weary  passer-by.  How  cozy  it  is! 
How  you  love  to  watch  the  flames  leap  up,  and  cast 
a  weird  flickering  radiance  on  the  walls  and  ceiling! 
How  you  enjoy  making  pictures  in  the  fire,  and  what 
sweet,  hallowed  memories  they  suggest!  Winter  is 
passing  away,  and  soon  shall  dawn  another  spring. 
Take  a  backward  sweep  over  the  years ;  how  many 
sweet,  beautiful  things  you  have  to  remember :  did  you 
ever  think  of  that?  How  many  good  gifts  have  fallen 
to  your  share,  how  many  dear  friendships  have  been 
given  you.  What  choice  blessings  have  been  yours, 
and  what  royal  good  cheer.  Why,  sitting  here  in  the 
glow  of  the  firelight,  you  can  look  back  over  your  life 
and  wonder  why  you  never  realized  before  how  well- 
favored  you  have  been.  "  Surely  the  lines  have  fallen," 
to  you,  "in  pleasant  places."  How  the  hallowed 
memories  come  thronging  around  you  to-day :  old 
faces  look  out  of  the  dancing  flames  to  greet  you,  and 
you  hear  familiar  tones  speaking  out  of  the  silent  past. 
Oh,  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  that  our  missing  ones  can 
all  come  back  to  us,  back  through  the  Memory  of  the 
Past,  and  thank  God,  that  is  not  all  —  we  shall  see 
them  by  and  by  on  the  echoless  shores  of  Eternity. 

When  I  remember  something  which  I  had, 
But  which  is  gone,  and  I  must  do  without, 

I  sometimes  wonder  how  I  can  be  glad, 
Even  in  cowslip-time,  when  hedges  sprout ; 

It  makes  me  sigh  to  think  on  it  —  but  yet 

My  days  will  not  be  better  days,  should  I  forget. 

JEAN  1NGELOW. 

[63] 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

WE  then  that  are  strong  ought  to  bear  the  infirmi- 
ties of  the  weak,  and  not  to  please  ourselves. 
—  ROMANS  15:  I. 

Isn't  it  a  blessed  thing  to  be  helpful?  Isn't  it  a 
comfort  to  feel  that  we  are  needed  and  wanted  in  the 
world  —  to  know  that  there  is  a  place  for  us,  and  to  be 
in  our  place,  ready,  willing,  aye,  and  even  anxious  to 
do  our  part,  and  help  some  one  weaker  than  ourselves  ? 
Let  this  be  a  day  of  helpfulness  :  be  on  the  look  out  for 
the  needs  of  others.  Isn't  there  a  home  that  you  could 
brighten,  a  burden  that  you  could  lighten,  a  heart  that 
you  could  comfort,  if  you  try?  The  poor  little  pale- 
faced  invalid  who  sits  at  the  window  when  you  pass 
by,  haven't  you  a  smile  to  spare  her?  The  ragged 
street  urchin  you  were  unkind  to  yesterday,  can't  you 
make  it  up  to  him  to-day  with  a  pleasant  word  ?  You 
were  cross  to  some  one  in  your  own  household  yester- 
day, perhaps,  but  you  have  been  sorry  for  it  ever  since  ; 
be  patient  to-day,  and  help  —  not  hinder  the  happiness 
of  those  you  love. 

Be  useful  where  thou  livest,  that  they  may 
Both  want  and  wish  thy  pleasing  presence  still. 

Find  out  men's  wants  and  will, 
And  meet  them  there.     All  worldly  joys  go  less 
To  the  one  joy  of  doing  kindnesses. 

G.  HERBERT. 

Oh,  might  we  all  our  lineage  prove, 
Give  and  forgive,  do  good  and  love ; 
By  soft  endearments,  in  kind  strife 
Lightening  the  load  of  daily  life. 

j.  KEBLE. 
[64] 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

WE  are  all  too  apt  to  find  fault :  it  is  characteristic 
of  humanity.  We  cannot  expect  to  have  things 
just  as  we  want  them  in  this  world,  so  why  should  we 
grumble  and  complain  ?  What  if  our  breakfast  is  not 
cooked  exactly  as  we  like  it ;  will  it  taste  any  better  if 
seasoned  with  murmurings  ?  What  if  the  weather 
doesn't  suit  our  convenience  or  plans  ?  Perhaps  the 
sun  shines  too  hotly  for  a  sail  on  the  lake ;  or  the 
rain  is  falling,  and  we  must  give  up  a  shopping  expedi- 
tion, or  a  pleasure-trip ;  will  it  do  any  good  to  find 
fault  ?  And  then,  we  see  too  many  flaws  in  our  neigh- 
bors. None  of  us  are  perfect :  are  you  ?  am  I  ?  That 
is  about  the  only  kind  of  blindness  God  will  tolerate  — 
that  which  shuts  out  defects  in  the  dispositions  of  those 
around  us.  Or,  if  they  are  too  glaring  to  be  hidden, 
let  us  not  speak  of  them  to  others.  My  grandmother's 
motto  was,  "  If  you  cannot  say  something  good  about 
people,  say  nothing  at  all."  A  quick  tongue  and  a 
complaining  spirit  stir  up  strife ;  let  us  therefore  learn 
to  control  both  our  words  and  actions. 

Back  then,  complainer ;  loath  thy  life  no  more, 
Nor  deem  thyself  upon  a  desert  shore, 

Because  the  rocks  the  nearer  prospect  close. 
Yet  in  fallen  Israel  are  there  hearts  and  eyes 
That  day  by  day  in  prayer  like  thine  arise  ; 

Thou  know'st  them  not,  but  their  Creator  knows. 

j.  KEBLE. 

When  thou  hast  thanked  thy  God 

For  every  blessing  sent, 
What  time  will  then  remain 

For  murmurs  or  lament  ? 

R.  C.  TRENCH. 
[65] 


FEBRUARY   TWENTY-NINTH. 

A  DAY  OF  GLADNESS. 

I  OPENED  the  doors  of  my  heart, 
And  behold 

There  was  music  within  and  a  song, 
And  echoes  did  feed  on  the  sweetness,  repeating  it  long. 

JEAN   INGELOW. 

Let  us  open  the  doors  of  our  hearts  to-day  and  see 
how  much  gladness  we  can  throw  into  the  world. 
What  is  the  use  to  hoard  up  sunshine  and  joy  ?  We 
cannot  leave  it  to  our  friends  when  we  die.  The  only 
way  to  be  benevolent  with  gladness,  is  to  keep  on  giv- 
ing it  out :  let  it  radiate  from  us  every  day,  and  then  its 
sweet  influence  will  be  a  precious  legacy  to  our  friends 
and  loved  ones. 

O,  whatever  our  lot,  let  us  be  glad  ! 
Glad  for  the  toil  and  the  tears, 
Glad  for  the  hopes  and  the  fears, 
Glad  for  the  gathering  years, 

Joyous  or  sad ; 
Ours  but  to  do  our  best, 
Matters  not  what  the  test  — 
God's  part  to  do  the  rest, 

Let  us  be  glad  ! 

i.  s.  T. 

I  praise  Thee  while  my  days  go  on ; 

I  love  Thee  while  my  days  go  on  : 

Through  dark  and  dearth,  through  fire  and  frost, 

With  emptied  arms  and  treasures  lost, 

I  thank  Thee  while  my  days  go  on. 

E.  B.  BROWNING. 
[66] 


FELICIA   HE  MANS 
1793-1835 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF   MARCH  


MARCH   FIRST. 

MARCH.    Its  tree,  Juniper.    Its  stone,  Bloodstone. 
Its  motto,  "Courage  and   strength   in  time  of 
danger."  —  OLD  SAYING. 

Look  and  listen  !  All  the  earth  is  awakening.  For 
this  is  Spring's  resurrection,  and  March,  with  his 
dauntless  courage  and  strength,  has  heralded  its  com- 
ing to  the  world.  The  Juniper  trees  are  trembling  with 
happiness,  and  as  the  cool,  crisp  breath  of  March  sways 
their  branches,  they  wave  their  palms  of  rejoicing  and 
seem  to  say,  "  this  is  our  day,  for  we  belong  to  March  ! 
O  world,  look  up  to  us,  and  be  strong  ! "  Let  us 
therefore  be  sturdy  and  resolute,  like  March,  and  put- 
ting on  our  juniper  strength,  go  forth  to  search  for  God's 
truths  in  all  things.  Let  our  souls  awake,  like  the 
Spring,  and  seek  out  God's  glories. 

Say  not  the  struggle  naught  availeth, 
The  labor  and  the  wounds  are  vain, 

The  enemy  faints,  nor  faileth, 
And  as  things  have  been  they  remain. 

For  while  the  tired  waves,  vainly  breaking, 
Seem  here  no  painful  inch  to  gain, 

Far  back,  through  creeks  and  inlets  making, 
Comes  silent,  flooding  in,  the  main. 

ARTHUR   HUGH   CLOUGH. 
[67] 


MARCH   SECOND. 

LET  us  take  time  to  consider.  We  are  so  hurried 
in  our  earth-life,  and  so  burdened  with  our  cares 
and  pleasures,  that  we  have  little  leisure  for  reflection. 
We  are  so  busy  clothing  our  bodies,  that  we  have  not 
time  to  consider  how  we  may  clothe  our  souls.  We 
are  so  engrossed  with  the  accumulation  of  riches  that 
we  forget  to  consider  how  we  may  best  enrich  our 
minds.  We  are  so  taken  up  with  self  and  self-interests, 
that  we  neglect  to  consider  the  grand  proofs  of  God's 
love  for  us,  and  to  reflect  upon  His  wisdom  and  might. 
Oh  that  we  could  learn  to  think  more  about  God,  and 
trust  more  fully  in  His  loving  protection,  and  grow 
daily  more  dependent  upon  His  mercies  ! 


Consider 
The  lilies  of  the  field  whose  bloom  is  brief, 

We  are  as  they, 

Like  them  we  fade  away, 
As  doth  a  leaf. 

Consider 
The  sparrows  of  the  air  of  small  account ; 

Our  God  doth  view 
Whether  they  fall  or  mount  — 
He  guards  us  too. 

Consider 
The  birds  that  have  no  barn  nor  harvest  weeks 

God  gives  them  food ; 
Much  more  our  Father  seeks 

To  do  us  good. 

ROSSETTI. 

[68] 


T 


MARCH   THIRD. 

HIS  lovely  world,  the  hills,  the  sward  — 
They  all  look  fresh,  as  if  our  Lord 
But  yesterday  had  finished  them. 

JEAN  INGELOW. 


For  winter's  rain  and  ruins  are  over, 
And  all  the  season  of  snows  and  sins  ; 

The  days  dividing  lover  and  lover, 
The  light  that  loses,  the  night  that  wins ; 

And  time  remembered  is  grief  forgotten, 

And  frosts  are  slain  and  flowers  begotten, 

And  in  green  underwood  and  cover 
Blossom  by  blossom  the  spring  begins. 

ALGERNON  CHARLES  SWINBURNE. 

The  heart  that  loves  God  rejoices  in  His  works.  He 
has  set  His  seal  on  the  hills  and  mountains,  and 
breathed  His  breath  into  the  birds  and  flowers.  A 
quiet  hour  of  sweet  communion  with  Nature  lifts  us 
a  little  nearer  Heaven.  You  may  have  read  a  great 
many  books,  but  where  is  there  a  book  that  can  teach 
such  wisdom  as  the  book  of  Creation  ?  It  is  a  master 
work  of  theology  and  philosophy,  and  yet  it  has  all 
the  grace,  sweetness,  and  rhythm  of  a  lyric  poem.  The 
book  of  Nature  may  be  said  to  be  a  divine  pastoral. 

I  grant  to  the  king  his  reign ; 
Let  us  yield  him  homage  due. 

I  grant  to  the  wise  his  meed, 

But  his  yoke  I  will  not  brook, 
For  God  taught  me  to  read,  — 

He  lent  me  the  world  for  a  book. 

JEAN  INGELOW. 

[69] 


MARCH   FOURTH. 

VERSE,  a  breeze  ''mid  blossoms  straying, 
Where  hope  clung  feeding  like  a  bee  — 
Both  were  mine  !     Life  went  a-Maying 
With  Nature,  Hope,  and  Poetry, 
When  I  was  young  I 

When  I  was  young?    Ah,  woful  when  I 
Ah,  for  the  change  'twixt  now  and  then! 

Naught  cared  this  body  for  wind  or  weather, 
When  Youth  and  I  lived  in't  together. 
Flowers  are  lovely  :  Love  is  flower-like : 
Friendship  is  a  sheltering  tree  ; 
O  the  joys  that  came  down  shower-like, 
Of  Friendship,  Love,  and  Liberty, 
Ere  I  was  old  ! 


Ere  I  was  old?    Ah,  woful  ere  I 
Which  tells  me  Youth's  no  longer  here  ! 
O  Youth  !  for  years  so  many  and  sweet, 
'Tis  known  that  thou  and  I  were  one ; 
Til  think  it  but  a  fond  deceit  — 
It  cannot  be  that  thou  art  gone  ! 


I  see  these  locks  in  silvery  slips, 
This  drooping  gait,  this  altered  size ; 
But  Springtide  blossoms  on  thy  lips, 
And  tears  take  sunshine  from  thine  eyes  ! 
Life  is  but  thought ;  so  think  I  will, 
That  Youth  and  I  are  house-mates  still. 

COLERIDGE. 

[70] 


N 


MARCH   FIFTH. 

OW  faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the 
evidence  of  things  not  seen.  —  HEBREWS  1 1 : 1. 


There  are  times  when  some  graces  may  be  out  of 
use,  but  there  is  no  time  wherein  faith  can  be  said  to 
be  so :  wherefore  faith  must  be  always  in  exercise.  .  .  . 
Faith  is  the  eye,  is  the  mouth,  is  the  hand,  and  one  of 
these  is  of  use  all  day  long.  Faith  is  to  see,  to  receive, 
to  work,  or  to  eat :  and  a  Christian  should  be  seeing, 
or  receiving,  or  working,  or  feeding  all  day  long.  — 

JOHN   BUNYAN. 

If  faith  produce  no  works,  I  see 
That  faith  is  not  a  living  tree. 
Thus  faith  and  works  together  grow, 
No  separate  life  they  e'er  can  know : 
They've  soul  and  body,  hand  and  heart : 
What  God  hath  joined  let  no  man  part. 

HANNAH   MORE. 

We  shall  be  made  truly  wise  if  we  be  made  content ; 
content,  too,  not  only  with  what  we  can  understand, 
but  content  with  what  we  do  not  understand  —  the 
habit  of  mind  which  theologians  call  —  and  rightly 
—  faith  in  God.  —  CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 

In  such  righteousness 
To  them  by  faith  imputed,  they  may  find 
Justification  towards  God,  and  peace 
Of  conscience. 

MILTON. 

Faith  builds  a  bridge  across  the  gulf  of  death. 

YOUNG. 

[71] 


MARCH   SIXTH. 

LET  us  be  careful  when,  and  how,  we  speak.  "To 
everything  there  is  a  season,  and  a  time  to  every 
purpose  under  the  Heaven.  ...  A  time  to  keep 
silence  and  a  time  to  speak."  It  requires  wisdom, 
delicacy,  and  discretion  to  use  our  words  aright ;  and 
if  using  them  at  all  will  bring  discord,  or  strife,  we 
should  better  leave  them  unsaid.  Better  to  appear  dull 
and  stupid,  better  to  sit  with  closed  lips  and  unuttered 
thoughts,  than  say  aught  that  will  wound  or  offend  a 
fellow-being.  The  silvery  tongues  are  not  always  the 
most  eloquent  to  the  ear  of  God.  Those  whose  lips 
are  mute,  and  who  have  learned  the  sweet  lesson  of 
silence,  are  often  more  pleasing  to  Him. 

Words  are  like  leaves :  when  they  most  abound, 
Much  fruit  of  sense  beneath  is  rarely  found. 

POPE. 

We  should  be  as  careful  of  our  words  as  of  our 
actions,  and  as  far  from  speaking  ill  as  from  doing 
ill.  —  CICERO. 

Such  as  thy  words  are,  such  will  thy  affections  be 
esteemed ;  and  such  will  thy  deeds  as  thy  affections, 
and  such  thy  life  as  thy  deeds.  —  SOCRATES. 

We  know  not  what  we  do 
When  we  speak  words. 

SHELLEY. 

My  words  fly  up,  my  thoughts  remain  below : 
Words  without  thoughts,  never  to  Heaven  go. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


MARCH  SEVENTH. 

EVIL  communications  corrupt  good  manners. 
I  CORINTHIANS  15  :  34. 

We  always  judge  strangers  by  their  manners  :  their 
dress  may  give  us  some  idea  of  their  worldly  posses- 
sions, but  it  is  to  their  manners  we  look  for  good  or  ill 
breeding.  Quietness  of  movement,  and  gentleness  of 
speech  and  action,  are  marks  of  true  refinement. 
Though  the  face  may  lack  beauty,  and  the  form  sym- 
metry, if  there  is  a  grace  of  manner  and  charm  of 
mind,  these  will  atone  for  the  absence  of  attractions 
that  only  please  the  eye  and  strike  the  fancy.  Gracious 
manners  may  be  cultivated  to  a  certain  extent,  and  with 
innate  refinement,  are  more  beautiful  still. 

A  moral,  sensible,  and  well-bred  man 
Will  not  affront  me ;  and  no  other  can. 

COWPER. 

What  a  rare  gift,  by  the  by,  is  that  of  manners !  how 
difficult  to  define,  how  much  more  difficult  to  impart! 
Better  for  a  man  to  possess  them  than  wealth,  beauty, 
or  talents ;  they  will  more  than  supply  all.  —  BULWER- 

LYTTON. 


Manners  must  adorn  knowledge  and  smooth  its  way 
through  the  world.  —  CHESTERFIELD. 

Good  qualities  are  the  substantial  riches  of  the  mind ; 
but  it  is  good  breeding  that  sets  them  off  to  advantage. 
—  LOCKE. 

t73] 


MARCH   EIGHTH. 

NOTHING  so  touches  the  human  heart  as  the  word 
home.  It  is  the  beginning  of  life,  the  centre  of 
life,  and  its  true  perfection  lies  at  the  end  of  life.  No 
place  has  such  hallowed  memories,  no  faces  are  so 
dear,  no  counsels  so  wise,  and  no  voices  so  sweet  as 
those  that  cluster  about  the  home.  It  is  a  beacon  in 
the  darkness,  when  clouds  obscure  our  way,  and  a 
haven  of  rest  when  the  day's  long  toil  is  done.  With 
what  longing  do  our  hearts  turn  towards  home  when 
distance  rolls  between  us !  Truly,  "  absence  makes  the 
heart  grow  fonder  "  —  the  heart  that  is  loyal  and  lov- 
ing and  to  whom  home  is  "the  dearest  spot  on  earth." 
God  pity  the  homeless!  yet  even  they  are  not  so 
much  to  be  pitied  as  those  who  have  a  place  they  call 
home,  but  in  which  there  is  no  sympathy  of  congenial- 
ity. Such  are  but  abiding-places.  Where  the  heart 
is,  there  is  home! 

Sweet  is  the  smile  of  home,  the  mutual  look 

When  hearts  are  of  each  other  sure ; 
Sweet  all  the  joys  that  crowd  the  household  nook, 

The  haunts  of  all  affections  pure. 

j.  KEBLE. 

O  happy  house!  and  happy  servitude! 

Where  all  alike  one  Master  own ; 
Where  daily  duty,  in  Thy  strength  pursued, 

Is  never  hard  or  toilsome  known ; 
Where  each  one  serves  Thee,  meek  and  lowly, 

Whatever  Thine  appointment  be, 
Till  common  tasks  seem  great  and  holy, 

When  they  are  done  as  unto  Thee. 

c.  j.  P.  SPITTA. 
[74] 


A 


MARCH  NINTH. 

LITTLE  thought  about  Self-control!     "  Self-con- 
quest," says  Plato,  "is  the  greatest  of  victories." 


There  are  real  heroes  around  us  every  day,  but  we 
do  not  call  them  such.  They  are  fighting  the  enemy 
Self,  and  it  is  a  mighty  combat.  The  man  who  gov- 
erns a  hasty  temper,  subdues  a  proud  spirit,  and  mas- 
ters a  stubborn  will,  deserves  a  laurel-wreath  more 
than  he  who  dies  on  the  battle-field.  It  is  easier  to 
meet  the  enemy  in  one  great  conflict,  when  your  whole 
strength  is  armed  for  it,  than  to  wage  a  daily  warfare 
with  self  and  sin.  "  He  that  overcometh  shall  inherit 
all  things." 


Within  !  within,  oh,  turn 

Thy  spirit's  eyes,  and  learn 
Thy  wandering  senses  gently  to  control ; 
Thy  dearest  Friend  dwells  deep  within  thy  soul, 

And  asks  thyself  of  thee, 
That  heart,  and  mind,  and  sense,  He  may  make  whole 

In  perfect  harmony. 

G.    TERSTEEGEN. 


I  will  be  lord  over  myself.  No  one  who  cannot 
master  himself  is  worthy  to  rule,  and  only  he  can  rule. 
—  GOETHE. 

Lord  of  himself,  though  not  of  lands ; 
And  having  nothing,  yet  hath  all. 

SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 
[75] 


MARCH  TENTH. 

'  I  AHERE  is  an  individuality  in  voices  that  we  can 
-*•  hardly  understand  or  explain.  The  tone,  the  in- 
flection, the  accent,  marks  them  with  a  sweetness  or 
harshness,  that  rings  in  our  ears  when  only  Memory 
can  call  them  back.  O  Voices,  Voices!  how  much 
joy  and  sorrow  you  bring  into  our  lives!  When,  long 
ago,  God  spake  and  the  world  sprang  into  space,  the 
sun  and  moon  were  illumined,  and  the  stars  blossomed 
in  the  blue  garden  of  the  sky,  in  the  grand,  majestic 
stillness  and  out  of  chaos  and  darkness,  think  how 
powerful  must  have  been  the  sound  of  that  holy  Voice ! 
Then,  when  He  walked  in  the  Garden  of  Eden  at  the 
close  of  the  day,  and  spake  His  first  reproving  word  to 
man,  how  sorrowful  must  have  been  the  Voice  of  the 
Lord!  Again,  with  what  infinite  tenderness  He  must 
have  said  of  Christ,  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom 
I  am  well  pleased."  When  He  calls  to  you  and  me,  in 
the  silence  and  in  the  hour  of  sacred  communion,  how 
softly  and  lovingly  falls  "  the  still  small  Voice  "  on  our 
ears!  Oh,  the  ineffable  sweetness  of  the  Voice  of  the 
Lord !  let  us  listen  to  its  warnings,  and  follow  its  guid- 
ance all  through  our  earthly  pilgrimage. 


My  heart  is  resting,  O  my  God! 

My  heart  is  in  Thy  care ; 
I  hear  Thy  voice  of  joy  and  health 

Resounding  everywhere. 
"  Thou  art  my  portion,"  saith  my  soul, 

Ten  thousand  voices  say, 
The  music  of  their  glad  Amen 

Will  never  die  away. 

ANNE   L.    WARING. 
[76] 


MARCH   ELEVENTH. 

HE  that  speaks  ill  of  another,  commonly  before  he 
is  aware,  makes  himself  such  a  one  as  he  speaks 
against;  for  if  he  had  civility  or  breeding,  he  would 
forbear  such  kind  of  language.  —  ANONYMOUS. 

A  gallant  man  is  above  ill  words.  Speak  no  ill  of  a 
great  enemy,  but  rather  give  him  good  words,  that  he 
may  use  you  better  if  you  chance  to  fall  into  his  hands. 

—  JOHN   SELDEN. 

Evil  is  wrought  by  want  of  Thought, 
As  well  as  want  of  Heart! 

HOOD. 

Duly  advis'd,  the  coming  evil  shun : 
Better  not  do  the  deed,  than  weep  it  done. 

PRIOR. 

But  then  I  sigh,  and,  with  a  piece  of  Scripture, 
Tell  them,  that  God  bids  us  do  good  for  evil. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

O !  many  a  shaft,  at  random  sent, 
Find  mark  the  archer  little  meant ! 
And  many  a  word,  at  random  spoken, 
May  soothe  or  wound  a  heart  that's  broken! 

SCOTT. 

Shakespeare  says,  "  111  deeds  are  doubled  with  an 
evil  word."  How  true  this  is!  Unkind  acts  are  mag- 
nified by  the  power  of  the  tongue.  Evil-speaking 
leaves  its  own  sting :  sharp,  cruel  words  are  like  a  stab 
to  a  sensitive  heart.  Oh,  the  harm  they  have  done!  the 
friendships  they  have  broken,  the  households  they  have 
blighted,  the  scars  they  have  left !  Let  this  not  be  a 
day  of  evil-speaking,  but  a  day  of  gentle  words. 
[77] 


MARCH   TWELFTH. 

IT  is  the  little  rift  within  the  lute, 
That  by  and  by  will  make  the  music  mute, 
And  ever  widening,  silence  all. 

TENNYSON. 


Byron  says,  "  Doubt  and  Discord  step  'twixt  thine 
and  thee."  How  little  misunderstandings  separate 
friends;  how  little  unkind  thoughts  will  creep  into  our 
hearts  and  gnaw  at  them  until  our  whole  nature 
changes,  and  our  dispositions  become  fretful  and 
peevish.  We  grow  suspicious  and  distrustful;  we 
wonder  at  the  change  in  ourselves,  and  are  at  a  loss  to 
understand  it.  Whenever  you  are  conscious  that  a 
weed  of  doubt  is  springing  up  in  the  soil  of  your  heart, 
root  it  up,  and  cast  it  out.  Rid  yourself  of  unkind 
thoughts  —  don't  harbor  them.  Be  at  peace  with  all 
men.  Don't  let  Doubt  get  the  better  of  you;  mend 
the  "  little  rift  within  the  lute  "  before  the  music  of  love 
and  faith  is  silenced  forever. 


An  old  affront  will  stir  the  heart 
Through  years  of  rankling  pain. 

JEAN   INGELOW. 

Doubt  indulged  soon  becomes  doubt  realized. 

FRANCES   R.    HAVERGAL. 


Our  doubts  are  traitors, 

And  make  us  lose  the  good  we  oft  might  win, 

By  fearing  to  attempt. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

[78] 


T 


MARCH   THIRTEENTH. 

ELL  me,  where  is  fancy  bred ; 
Or  in  the  heart,  or  in  the  head? 

SHAKESPEARE. 


Sweet  dreams  and  fancies  —  waking  or  sleeping, 
they  leave  their  impression  upon  our  minds  and  hearts. 
Our  hopes,  our  longings,  our  aspirations  —  all  come  to 
us,  borne  on  the  wings  of  Fancy.  We  dream  with  our 
eyes  wide  open,  and  with  the  daylight  about  us  — 
dream  as  softly  as  if  it  were  in  the  stillness  of  night, 
and  the  stars  were  in  the  sky.  Day-dreams  are  the 
longings  within  us ;  like  little  tendrils  from  the  vine, 
reaching  out  for  something  strong  to  cling  to,  they 
shoot  out  of  the  heart-soil  and  twine  themselves  about 
us,  strengthening  each  day,  until  they  grow  to  be  a 
part  of  our  being.  If  our  dreams  and  fancies  are  pure 
and  elevating,  they  will  help  mould  our  characters 
aright ;  if  our  longings  are  noble  and  good,  they  will 
make  us  better.  Then  let  us  dream  to  a  purpose,  and 
let  our  dreams  develop  into  realities. 

Dreams  are  but  interludes,  which  fancy  makes  ; 
When  monarch  Reason  sleeps,  this  mimic  wakes. 

DRYDEN. 

I  believe  it  to  be  true  that  dreams  are  the  true  inter- 
preters of  our  inclinations ;  but  there  is  art  required  to 
sort  and  understand  them.  —  MONTAIGNE. 

And  yet,  as  angels  in  some  brighter  dreams 

Call  to  the  soul  when  man  doth  sleep, 

So   some    strange    thoughts    transcend    our    wonted 

dreams, 
And  into  glory  peep. 

VAUGHAN. 
[79] 


MARCH  FOURTEENTH. 

OWIFT  kindnesses  are  best ;  a  long  delay 
^  In  kindness  takes  the  kindness  all  away. 

GREEK  ANTHOLOGY. 


God  bless  the  man  whose  law  is  the  law  of  Kindness, 
and  whose  heart  throbs  warmly  towards  all  humanity! 
The  man  who  has  a  kind  word  for  the  oppressed,  a  kind 
look  for  the  erring,  and  a  kind  smile  for  all  of  God's 
creatures.  Blessings  are  in  his  path,  and  happiness 
blossoms  around  him  like  flowers  in  early  spring. 

That  best  portion  of  a  good  man's  life, 
His  little,  nameless,  unremembered  acts 
Of  kindness  and  of  love. 

WORDSWORTH. 

Fraternity  is  the  reciprocal  affection,  the  sentiment 
which  inclines  man  to  do  unto  others  as  he  would  that 
others  should  do  to  him.  —  MAZZINI. 


Never  elated,  while  one  man's  oppressed ; 
Never  dejected,  while  another's  blest. 

POPE. 


Good  words  make  friends  ;  bad  words  make  enemies. 
It  is  great  prudence  to  gain  as  many  friends  as  we 
honestly  can,  especially  when  it  may  be  done  at  so 
easy  a  rate  as  a  good  word.  .  .  .  You  will  find  that 
silence,  or  very  gentle  words,  are  the  most  exquisite 
revenge  for  reproaches.  ...  Be  kind  and  loving  to 
one  another.  —  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE. 
[80] 


MARCH  FIFTEENTH. 

A  DAY  OF  GOOD  WISHES. 

THE  wind  is  sweeping  along  the  highways  and 
blowing  open  the  first  young  flowers  of  the  year. 
Nature  is  stirring  and  pushing,  and  pulsing  up,  and 
out,  into  light,  and  joy,  and  liberty.  What  a  sweet 
privilege  it  is  to  live  and  to  grow  ;  to  breathe,  to  expand, 
to  progress,  and  to  go  on  progressing  throughout  eter- 
nity !  My  wish  for  you  is  that  your  heart  may  be  like 
the  spring  highways ;  and  that  the  winds  of  oppor- 
tunity may  not  pass  you  by,  but  that  they  may  blow 
open  the  buds  of  purity  and  gentleness  that  lie  folded 
within  you  and  carry  their  fragrance  into  all  the  world. 

My  wish  for  you,  is  a  forgiving  spirit.  May  the 
breath  of  Heaven  scatter  all  clouds  in  your  sky,  and 
blow  away  all  unpleasant  thoughts.  Forgive  as  you 
wish  to  be  forgiven. 

Again,  I  wish  for  you  a  useful  life!  Let  head,  hands, 
heart,  and  feet  be  engaged  in  active  service :  allow  no 
part  of  your  being  to  grow  old  and  rusty  through 
neglect.  Polish  the  gold  and  silver  of  your  character, 
and  it  will  shine  so  brightly  as  to  throw  its  lustre  into 
the  lives  of  others.  I  wish  for  you  God's  blessing! 

May  no  sorrow  distress  thy  days ; 
May  no  griefs  disturb  thy  nights  ; 
May  the  pillow  of  peace  kiss  thy  cheek, 
And  the  pleasure  of  realization  attend 
Thy  beautiful  dreams. 

May  the  Angel  of  God  attend  thy  bed  and 
Take  care  that  the  expiring  lamp  of  life 
Shall  not  receive  one  rude  blast  to  hasten  on 
Its  extinction. 

ANONYMOUS. 
[81] 


T 


MARCH  SIXTEENTH. 

HE  Lord  is  good  to  all ;  and  His  tender  mercies 
are  over  all  His  works.  —  PSALM  145  :  9. 

Maker  of  earth  and  sea  and  sky, 

Creation's  sovereign  Lord  and  King 

Who  hung  the  starry  worlds  on  high, 

And  formed  alike  the  sparrow's  wing ; 

Bless  the  dumb  creatures  of  Thy  care, 

And  listen  to  their  voiceless  prayer. 

ANONYMOUS. 

The  Lord  of  all,  Himself  through  all  diffused, 
Sustains,  and  is  the  life  of  all  that  lives  ; 
Nature  is  but  a  name  for  an  effect, 
Whose  cause  is  God.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Not  a  flower 

But  shows  some  touch  in  freckle,  streak,  or  stain, 
Of  His  unrivalled  pencil.     He  inspires 
Their  balmy  odours,  and  imparts  their  hues, 
And  bathes  their  eyes  with  nectar,  and  includes, 
In  grains  as  countless  as  the  seaside  sands, 
The  forms  in  which  He  sprinkles  all  the  earth. 
Happy  who  walks  with  Him !  whom  what  he  finds, 
Of  flavour  or  of  scent,  in  fruit  or  flower, 
Of  what  he  views  of  beautiful  or  grand 
In  Nature,  from  the  broad  majestic  oak 
To  the  green  blade  that  twinkles  in  the  sun, 
Prompts  with  remembrance  of  a  present  God. 

WILLIAM   COWPER. 

O  Heart,  look  up  and  praise  Him!   He  who  hath 
made  earth  so  beautiful  for  thee  accounts  thy  soul  of 
far    more  value    than    all   earth's    richest    treasures. 
Acquaint  thyself  with  Him  through  His  works. 
[82] 


MARCH   SEVENTEENTH. 

LOVING  and  serving,  serving  and  loving  !  nothing 
else  can  bring  true  happiness.  Love  is  the  key 
that  unlocks  the  heart  of  stone,  and  melts  the  coldest 
natures.  It  softens  and  subdues,  sweetens  and  enno- 
bles our  lives,  and  brings  us  into  sympathy  and  har- 
mony with  the  whole  created  world.  Loving  eyes  ever 
seek  for  the  good,  the  true,  and  the  beautiful ;  loving 
hands  soothe  the  aching  head,  and  smooth  the  rum- 
pled pillow,  and  never  weary  of  tender  ministrations ; 
loving  feet  are  swift  to  bear  good  tidings,  and  from 
morning  until  night  are  walking  in  ways  of  kindness. 
Loving  voices  speak  comforting  words  and  sing  songs 
of  gladness ;  and  loving  hearts  blossom  into  beautiful 
thoughts.  It  is  the  unselfish  spirit  that  loves  the  most ; 
acts  of  self-denial  prove  the  strength  and  depth  of  our 
love.  Daily  sacrifice  becomes  pleasure,  if  made  for 
those  who  are  dear  to  us.  Let  us  learn  to  renounce 
self;  each  act  of  self-denial  is  a  round  of  the  ladder  by 
which  we  climb  nearer  to  Heaven. 

Sublimest  joy  is  won  through  fiery  trial, 
And  sweetest  rest  by  toil  and  self-denial. 

ANONYMOUS. 

The  trivial  round,  the  common  task, 
Would  furnish  all  we  ought  to  ask ; 
Room  to  deny  ourselves  ;  a  road 
To  bring  us,  daily,  nearer  God. 

j.  KEBLE. 

All  the  doors  that  lead  inward  to  the  secret  place  of 
the  Most  High  are  doors  outward  —  out  of  self,  out  of 
smallness,  out  of  wrong.  —  GEORGE  MACDONALD. 

[83] 


MARCH   EIGHTEENTH. 

A  YEAR!    A  life!   What  are  they  ?    The  telling  of 
a  tale,  the  passing  of  a  meteor,  a  dim  speck  seen 
for  a  moment  on  Time's  horizon  dropping  into  eternity. 

—  THOMASON. 

The  sands  in  God's  great  hour-glass  are  falling,  one 
by  one.  Silently  and  steadily  the  little  golden  moments 
are  measuring  their  brief  span,  and  Time  is  marching 
on.  His  footprints  are  on  the  valleys  and  hills,  his 
touch  is  on  the  forest-trees,  and  the  giant  rocks  wear 
his  impress.  May  Time  whisper  to  you  of  Eternity,  and 
as  you  walk  with  him  through  life's  pathway,  fret  not 
because  you  are  growing  older,  but  let  this,  the  rather, 
be  your  anxiety :  u  Am  I  growing  better? " 

I  sometimes  feel  the  thread  of  life  is  slender, 
And  soon  with  me  the  labor  will  be  wrought ; 
Then  grows  my  heart  to  other  hearts  more  tender. 
The  time  is  short. 

There  are  no  fragments  so  precious  as  those  of  time, 
and  none  are  so  heedlessly  lost  by  people  who  cannot 
make  a  moment,  and  yet  can  waste  years.  —  MONT- 
GOMERY. 

Oh,  let  us  carry  hence,  each  one, 

Some  kindly  word,  some  look,  some  tone, 

Into  his  after  life,  to  be 
Treasured  heart-deep  and  carried  home  — 

An  echo  from  the  distant  sea, 

A  thing  of  joy  to  memory, 
In  all  the  years  to  come  ! 

ANONYMOUS. 

[84] 


MARCH   NINETEENTH. 

A  SONG  OF  THE  OLDEN  TIME. 

LET  us  give  it  a  place  in  our  hearts,  and  a  page  in 
our  book  !  We  catch  the  tender  music  winged 
to  us  from  Memory's  busy  hive,  and  once  again  gather 
from  the  meadows  of  the  past  the  honied  sweets  of 
half-forgotten  strains.  Oh,  sometime,  I  think  all  the 
music  of  our  lives  shall  come  back  to  us,  —  not  a  note 
missing,  —  and  the  unwritten  songs  of  our  hearts  shall 
find  words  and  tune  our  tongues  to  harmonies  divine. 

There's  a  song  of  the  olden  time, 

Falling  sad  o'er  the  ear, 
Like  the  dream  of  some  village  chime, 

Which  in  youth  we  lov'd  to  hear. 
And  ev'n  amidst  the  grand  and  gay, 

When  music  tries  her  gentlest  art, 
I  never  hear  so  sweet  a  lay, 

Or  one  that  hangs  so  round  my  heart. 

And  when  all  of  this  life  is  gone,  — 

Ev'n  the  hope,  ling'ring  now, 
Like  the  last  of  the  leaves  left  on 

Autumn's  sere  and  faded  bough,  — 
'Twill  seem  as  still  those  friends  were  near, 

Who  loved  me  in  youth's  early  day, 
If  in  that  parting  hour  I  hear 

The  same  sweet  notes,  and  die  away,  — 
To  that  song  of  the  olden  time, 

Breath'd,  like  Hope's  farewell  strain, 
To  say,  in  some  brighter  clime, 

Life  and  youth  will  shine  again. 

MOORE. 

[85] 


MARCH   TWENTIETH. 

ONE  of  our  writers  has  said,  "  The  art  of  conversa- 
tion is  not  to  be  taught  in  books ;  it  can  be 
acquired  only  by  constant  intercourse  with  society, 
acting  upon  a  well-stocked  mind.  Both  conditions  are 
essential  to  success  —  experience  and  information. 
We  must  know  not  only  what  to  say,  but  how  to  say 
it.  And,  remember,  if  the  faculty  of  talking  well  be  one 
indispensable  accomplishment  in  a  successful  conver- 
sationalist, another  is  the  faculty  of  listening  patiently. 
The  man  who  always  talks  and  never  listens,  is  a  bore 
of  the  greatest  magnitude ;  so  is  the  man  who  listens, 
and  never  talks.  For  conversation  must  be  neither 
monologue  nor  duologue ;  but  the  harmonious  com- 
bination of  many  voices  and  many  minds." 

Discourse  may  want  an  animated  "  No," 
To  brush  the  surface,  and  to  make  it  flow ; 
But  still  remember,  if  you  mean  to  please, 
To  press  your  point  with  modesty  and  ease. 

COWPER. 

Equality  is  the  life  of  Conversation ;  and  he  is  as 
much  out  who  assumes  to  himself  any  part  above 
another,  as  he  who  considers  himself  below  the  rest  of 
the  society.  —  SIR  RICHARD  STEELE. 

The  power  to  converse  well  is  a  very  great  charm. 
You  think  anybody  can  talk  ?  How  mistaken  you  are. 
Anybody  can  chatter.  Anybody  can  exchange  idle 
gossip.  .  .  .  But  to  talk  wisely,  instructively,  freshly, 
and  delightfully,  is  an  immense  accomplishment.  It 
implies  exertion,  observation,  study  of  books  and  peo- 
ple, and  receptivity  of  impression.  —  RUSKIN. 
[86] 


MARCH   TWENTY-FIRST. 

DESPISE  not  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  neither 
be  weary  of  His  correction ;  for  whom  the  Lord 
loveth  He  correcteth,  even  as  the  father  the  son  in 
whom  he  delighteth.  — PROVERBS  3 :  ri,  12. 


Well-pruned  hedges  put  forth  fresh  life  and  vigor, 
and  take  on  a  new  and  thrifty  growth.  But  under- 
neath still  lie  the  thorns.  When  God  prunes  His 
children  with  the  discipline  of  sorrow  and  adversity, 
some  of  us  only  put  on  an  outward  show  of  sweetness 
and  submission,  while  underneath  lie  the  thorns  of 
complainings  and  rebellion.  No  one  but  God,  who 
sees  beyond  the  surface-growth,  can  know  the  unyield- 
ing force  of  a  human  heart :  it  often  requires  repeated 
chastisings  to  rid  us  of  the  undergrowth  of  rebellious 
thoughts  and  feelings,  and  bring  us  into  a  state  of  calm 
resignation  to  His  will. 

My  God,  my  Father,  while  I  stray 
Far  from  my  home,  in  life's  rough  way, 
Oh,  teach  me  from  my  heart  to  say, 
"Thy  will  be  done." 

If  Thou  shouldst  call  me  to  resign 
What  most  I  prize,  it  ne'er  was  mine : 
I  only  yield  Thee  what  was  Thine ; 
"  Thy  will  be  done." 

Renew  my  will  from  day  to  day ; 
Blend  it  with  Thine,  and  take  away 
All  that  now  makes  it  hard  to  say, 
"  Thy  will  be  done." 

CHARLOTTE  ELLIOTT. 
[87] 


MARCH   TWENTY-SECOND. 

LET  us  drink  from  the  chalice  of  Joy,  for  the  winter 
is  over,  and  God  hath  waked  the  world  into  new- 
ness of  life  ! 


How  natural  is  joy,  my  heart ! 

JEAN    INGELOW. 


Joy  is  the  mainspring  in  the  whole  round  of  ever- 
lasting Nature ;  Joy  moves  the  wheels  of  the  great 
timepiece  of  the  world ;  she  it  is  that  loosens  flowers 
from  their  buds,  suns  from  their  firmaments,  rolling 
spheres  in  distant  space  seen  not  by  the  glass  of  the 
astronomer.  —  SCHILLER. 


I  was  only  then 

Contented,  when  with  bliss  ineffable 
I  felt  the  sentiment  of  Being  spread 
O'er  all  that  moves  and  all  that  seemeth  still ; 
O'er  all  that,  lost  beyond  the  reach  of  thought 
And  human  knowledge,  to  the  human  eye 
Invisible,  yet  liveth  to  the  heart ; 
O'er  all  that  leaps  and  runs,  and  shouts  and  sings, 
Or  beats  the  gladsome  air ;  o'er  all  that  glides 
Beneath  the  wave,  yea  in  the  wave  itself, 
And  mighty  depth  of  waters.     Wonder  not 
If  high  the  transport,  great  the  joy  I  felt 
Communing  in  this  sort  through  earth  and  Heaven 
With  every  form  of  creature,  as  it  looked 
Towards  the  Uncreated  with  a  countenance 
Of  adoration,  with  an  eye  of  love. 

WORDSWORTH. 
[88] 


MARCH    TWENTY-THIRD. 

THE  surest,  as  the  shortest,  way  to  make  yourself 
beloved  and  honoured,  is  to  be  indeed  the  very 
man  you  wish  to  appear.  Set  yourself,  therefore,  dili- 
gently to  the  attaining  of  every  virtue,  and  you  will 
find  on  experience,  that  no  one  of  them  whatsoever 
but  will  flourish  and  gain  strength  when  properly  exer- 
cised. —  SOCRATES. 

So  Virtue  blooms,  brought  forth  amid  the  storms 
Of  chill  adversity ;  in  some  lone  walk 

Of  life  she  rears  her  head, 

Obscure  and  unobserved ; 

While  every  bleaching  breeze  that  on  her  blows, 
Chastens  her  spotless  purity  of  breast, 

And  hardens  her  to  bear 

Serene  the  ills  of  life. 

HENRY  KIRK  WHITE. 

Salt  of  the  earth,  ye  virtuous  few, 

Who  season  human  kind  ; 
Light  of  the  world,  whose  cheering  ray 

Illumes  the  realms  of  mind  : 
Where  Misery  spreads  her  deepest  shade, 

Your  strong  compassion  glows  : 
From  your  blessed  lips  the  balm  distils, 

That  softens  mortal  woes. 

ANNE  L.  BARBAULD. 

The  virtuous  and  truly  wise  man  distinguishes  him- 
self, not  by  a  peculiar  dress,  not  by  singular  actions, 
words,  and  gestures,  but  by  his  whole  conduct.  One 
view  must  appear  in  all  his  actions  —  the  view  to  do  as 
much  good  by  his  existence  as  possible.  —  FEDER. 
[89] 


MARCH   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

HAVE  high  aims  and  aspirations ;  be  constantly 
travelling  upward,  and  keep  Heaven  always  in 
sight.  No  matter  where  your  lot  may  be  cast,  nor  how 
lowly  your  surroundings,  lift  your  hopes  above  you. 
Let  your  mind  and  soul  keep  steadily  mounting  God- 
ward.  Spread  your  spirit-wings  up  into  the  pure  atmos- 
phere of  Infinite  love,  and  let  your  whole  life  be  an 
uplifting  of  your  soul  and  the  souls  of  fellow-men. 

Fasten  your  souls  so  high,  that  constantly 
The  smile  of  your  heroic  cheer  may  float 
Above  all  floods  of  earthly  agonies, 
Purification  being  the  joy  of  pain. 

E.   B.    BROWNING. 

Raise  me  above  the  vulgar's  breath, 
Pursuit  of  fortune,  fear  of  death, 

And  all  in  life  that's  mean ; 
Still  true  to  reason  be  my  plan, 
Still  let  my  actions  speak  the  man, 

Through  every  various  scene. 

MARK   AKENSIDE. 

Let  each  man  think  himself  an  act  of  God, 
His  mind  a  thought,  his  life  a  breath  of  God  ; 
And  let  each  try,  by  great  thoughts  and  good  deeds, 
To  show  the  most  of  Heaven  he  hath  in  him. 

BAILEY. 

I  hold  in  truth,  with  him  who  sings 
To  one  clear  harp  in  divers  tones, 
That  men  may  rise  on  stepping-stones 

Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things. 

TENNYSON. 

[90] 


MARCH   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

THE   voice    of  the   Lord   is    upon    the   waters. — 
PSALM  29:3. 

What  is  more  majestic  than  the  sweep  of  the  ocean 
as  it  lashes  against  its  shores!  In  a  storm,  its  tones 
are  like  muffled  thunder,  as  the  huge  breakers  dash 
and  plunge,  and  rear  their  crested  heads  high  in  the 
air,  like  tossing  manes  on  white  battle-horses.  Can 
you  not  hear  the  powerful  voice  of  God  speaking 
through  the  waters  ?  Does  it  not  bring  to  mind  those 
familiar  lines,  by  Cowper? 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way, 

His  wonders  to  perform  ; 
He  plants  His  footsteps  on  the  sea, 

And  rides  upon  the  storm. 

Not  only  on  troublous  seas,  and  amid  angry  billows, 
is  heard  the  grandeur  and  sublimity  of  the  voice  of 
God,  but  beneath  fair,  cloudless  skies,  when  soft,  calm 
winds  are  blowing  —  then  it  sings  in  our  ears  a  tender 
Song  of  Peace.  It  is  heard  in  the  ceaseless  flow  of 
the  rushing  river,  reaching  ever  towards  the  sea ;  and 
even  the  bright  mountain  stream  hath  a  bit  of  God  in 
it,  and  is  a  symbol  of  His  wonderful  love,  whose  foun- 
tain shall  flow  on  through  eternity. 

Christ  and  His  love  shall  be  thy  blessed  all 

Forevermore ! 
Christ  and  His  light  shall  shine  on  all  thy  ways 

Forevermore ! 
Christ  and  His  peace  shall  keep  thy  trembling  soul 

Forevermore ! 

BONAR. 
[91] 


I 


MARCH   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

WISH  this  may  be  to  you  a  day  of  true  content- 
ment ! 


Down  the  windings,  lanes,  and  among  the  sprout- 
ing hedges  you  can  hear  the  clear,  ringing  call  of  early 
birds,  whistling  and  piping  as  they  go.  The  air  is  full 
of  whispers  and  odors  of  Spring ;  the  damp  earth 
steams  in  the  sunlight,  and  from  the  very  moisture  of 
its  sodden  mould  new  seeds  take  root,  new  blossoms 
burst,  and  everywhere  is  something  fresh  and  green. 
Life  and  Progress  sing  a  daily  song  of  content.  When 
we  are  busy  growing  and  thriving,  and  reaching  up 
towards  Heaven,  we  have  no  time  for  repining ;  like 
the  birds,  our  songs  of  gladness  will  burst  forth,  and 
go  ringing  down  the  lanes  of  life,  and  fill  other  hearts 
with  joy.  We  are  content  when  doing  our  duty,  and 
helping  some  one  else  to  do  theirs.  True  contentment 
is  in  the  heart,  and  not  in  the  surroundings. 

Sweet  are  the  thoughts  that  savour  of  content ; 

The  quiet  mind  is  richer  than  a  crown ; 

Sweet  are  the  nights  in  careless  slumber  spent ; 

The  poor  estate  scorns  fortune's  angry  frown ; 

Such  sweet  content,  such  minds,  such  sleep,  such  bliss, 

Beggars  enjoy,  when  princes  oft  do  miss. 

ROBERT  GREENE. 

We'll  therefore  relish  with  content, 
Whate'er  kind  Providence  has  sent, 

Nor  aim  beyond  our  power ; 
For,  if  our  stock  be  very  small, 
'Tis  prudent  to  enjoy  it  all, 

Nor  lose  the  present  hour. 

NATHANIEL   COTTON. 
[92] 


MARCH  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

WE  cannot  be  half  thankful  enough.  God  has 
bestowed  so  many  gifts  upon  us,  is  bestowing 
them  now,  and  will  continue  to  do  so  as  long  as  we 
live.  Last  year's  acorns  lie  half-buried  beneath  the 
dead  leaves,  and  though  cast  aside  and  trodden  under 
foot  of  man,  they  still  hold  their  shapely  cups  open  to 
the  sky  ready  to  gather  the  dews  of  Heaven.  It  may 
be  a  tiny  germ  is  sleeping  there,  and  nourished  and 
watered  by  those  refreshing  drops  ;  sometime  a  mighty 
tree  shall  spring  up,  and  spread  its  leaves  and  lend 
shelter  to  the  passer-by.  Oh,  let  us  make  the  most  of 
our  daily  blessings,  showered  down  upon  us,  as  the 
crystal  drops  of  dew  that  fill  the  little  brown  acorn's 
cup!  Isn't  your  cup,  and  mine,  running  over?  Let 
us  plant  a  germ  of  thankfulness  in  our  heart-soil  every 
day  that  shall  take  root  and  grow  towards  God.  If 
our  cups  are  always  ready  to  catch  God's  blessings,  it 
will  not  be  long  before  the  world  shall  be  able  to  sit 
under  the  shadow  of  our  wide-spreading  oaks  of 
thankfulness ;  for  like  the  chalice  the  acorn  holds, 
there  will  always  be  heavenly  dews  to  fill  them. 

Enough  that  He  who  made  can  fill  the  soul 
Here  and  hereafter  till  its  deeps  o'erflow  ; 

Enough  that  love  and  tenderness  control 
Our  fate  where'er  in  joy  or  doubt  we  go. 

ANONYMOUS. 

My  heart  for  gladness  springs, 

It  cannot  more  be  sad, 
For  very  joy  it  laughs  and  sings, ' 

Sees  nought  but  sunshine  glad. 

P.    GERHARDT. 
[93] 


MARCH   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

T    ITTLE  things 
J — *    On  little  wings 
Bear  little  souls  to  Heaven. 

FABER. 

Love's  secret  is  to  be  always  doing  things  for  God, 
and  not  to  mind  because  they  are  such  very  little 
ones —  FABER. 

We  miss  so  much  in  this  life,  because  we  often  pass 
by  the  little  things.  We  are  ever  looking  forward  to 
great  achievements,  instead  of  making  the  most  of 
trifles. 

Why  do  we  heap  huge  mounds  of  years 

Before  us  and  behind, 
And  scorn  the  little  days  that  pass 

Like  angels  on  the  wind  ? 

Each  turning  round  a  small,  sweet  face 

As  beautiful  as  near ; 
Because  it  is  so  small  a  face 

We  will  not  see  it  clear : 

And  as  it  turns  from  us,  and  goes 

Away  in  sad  disdain  : 
Though  we  would  give  our  lives  for  it, 

It  never  comes  again. 

DINAH   MULOCH    CRAIK. 

Wiser  it  were  to  welcome  and  make  ours 
Whatever  of  good,  though  small,  the  Present  brings,  — 
Kind  greetings,  sunshine,  song  of  birds,  and  flowers, 
With  a  child's  pure  delight  in  little  things. 

R.  C.  TRENCH. 

[94] 


MARCH   TWENTY-NINTH. 

AN  able  writer  has  said,  "  The  path  of  duty  in  this 
world  is  not  all  gloom  or  sadness,  or  darkness. 
Like  the  roads  of  the  South,  it  is  hedged  with  ever- 
bloom,  pure  and  white  as  snow.  It  is  only  when  we 
turn  to  the  right  hand  or  the  left  that  we  are  lacerated 
by  piercing  thorns  and  concealed  dangers." 

Hark,  hark,  a  voice  amid  the  quiet  intense  ! 
It  is  thy  Duty  waiting  thee  without. 
Rise  from  thy  knees,  in  hope,  the  half  of  doubt : 
A  hand  doth  pull  thee  —  it  is  Providence ; 
Open  thy  door  straightway  and  get  thee  hence ; 
Go  forth  into  the  tumult  and  the  shout ; 
Work,  love,  with  workers,  lovers,  all  about : 
Of  noise  alone  is  born  the  inward  sense 
Of  silence ;  and  from  action  springs  alone 
The  inward  knowledge  of  true  love  and  faith. 

GEORGE  MACDONALD. 

"  What  shall  I  do  to  gain  eternal  life  ?  " 

"  Discharge  aright 
The  simple  dues  with  which  each  day  is  rife, 

Yea,  with  thy  might." 

E.    VON   SCHILLER. 

Our  thoughts,  good  or  bad,  are  not  in  our  com- 
mand, but  every  one  of  us  has  at  all  hours  duties  to 
do,  and  these  he  can  do  negligently  like  a  slave,  or 
faithfully,  like  a  true  servant.  "Do  the  duty  that  is 
nearest  thee "  —  that  first,  and  that  well ;  all  the  rest 
will  disclose  themselves  with  increasing  clearness,  and 
make  their  successive  demand.  Were  your  duties 
never  so  small,  ...  set  yourself  with  double  and  treble 
energy  and  punctuality,  to  do  them.  —  x.  CARLYLE. 
[95] 


MARCH   THIRTIETH. 

"  T  EAD  us  not  into  temptation."  .  .  .  Perhaps 
J — '  you  will  find  this  a  day  of  temptations.  It  may 
be  you  will  want  to  do  the  very  things  that  you  know 
you  ought  not  to  do.  God's  grace  can  sustain  you,  His 
love  can  uphold  you,  His  strength  can  support  you. 
Don't  trust  to  yourself  to  meet  temptations  ;  we  are  all 
so  frail,  and  so  weak  by  nature,  that  we  cannot  with- 
stand them ;  God  alone  is  able  to  save  us. 

Thus  everywhere  we  find  our  suffering  God, 

And  where  He  trod 
May  set  our  steps ;  the  Cross  on  Calvary 

Uplifted  high 
Beams  on  the  martyr  host,  a  beacon  light 

In  open  fight. 

Mortal,  if  life  smile  on  thee,  and  thou  find 

All  to  thy  mind, 
Think,  who  did  once  from  Heaven  to  Hell  descend 

Thee  to  befriend ; 
So,  shalt  thou  dare  forego  at  His  dear  call, 

Thy  best,  thine  all. 

J.    KEBLE. 

Oh,  deliver  us  from  evil, 

Our  Father  —  that  at  last 
When  our  pilgrimage  is  ended, 

And  its  perils  safely  past ; 
We  may  see  the  morning  breaking 

On  our  promised  Canaan's  shore, 
Where  Thou  reign'st  in  pow'r  and  glory 

Evermore  —  and  evermore  ! 

Amen. 

HELEN   MARION   BURNSIDE. 
[96] 


MARCH  THIRTY-FIRST. 

IF  thou  hast  learned  ivhy  thou  livest,  thou  wilt  surely 
learn  how  to  love.  Why  did  God  place  thee  in  the 
world?  Was  it  merely  for  thine  own  pleasure  and 
satisfaction?  Was  it  that  thou  mightest  reach  the 
heights  of  wisdom  and  look  down  from  an  exalted 
position  on  all  humanity?  If  thou  art  a  true  believer 
in  Christianity,  thou  wilt  say  this  was  not  His  purpose, 
but  that  thou  shouldst  glorify  and  enjoy  Him  forever, 
and  that  thou  shouldst,  while  having  a  care  for  thine 
intellectual  advancement,  take  even  greater  thought  for 
thy  soul's  welfare.  Suffer  not  pleasure  to  keep  thee 
enchained  within  its  narrow  bounds,  for  pleasure  in 
itself  is  but  vanity ;  it  soars  no  higher  than  thine  own 
head,  but  dies  in  languid  indolence,  and  so  is  lost  for- 
ever. Thou  wert  made  in  the  image  of  God,  therefore 
do  not  lose  thy  resemblance  to  Him.  Let  thy  soul 
reflect  His  purity,  goodness,  and  truth.  If  thou  dost 
care  for  naught  but  the  things  of  this  world,  thou  wilt 
soon  find  thy  spirit  growing  more  like  the  world,  and 
less  like  God.  It  is  right  that  thou  shouldst  be  joyful 
and  happy ;  but  it  is  not  expedient  for  thee  to  be  ab- 
sorbed in  mere  pleasures  and  frivolities.  Let  God  and 
thy  duty  lead  thee,  then  shalt  thou  walk  aright. 

Oh,  righteous  doom,  that  they  who  make 

Pleasure  their  only  end, 
Ordering  the  world  for  its  sake, 

Miss  that  whereto  they  tend ; 
While  they  who  bid  stern  Duty  lead, 

Content  to  follow,  they 
Of  duty  only  taking  heed, 

Find  pleasure  by  the  way. 

R.    C.    TRENCH. 
[97] 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF   APRIL 


APRIL  FIRST. 

SHE  comes,  she  comes,  the  April-child ;   now  bid 
her  welcome  one  and  all  ! 

God  smiles  through  the  Spring's  dear  eyes,  and 
speaks  through  Spring's  dear  voice :  and  man  looks  up 
in  thankfulness  to  listen,  and  rejoice.  A  thousand 
echoes  wake  the  grove,  all  glad  and  strong,  and  full  of 
praise.  Oh,  hear  !  'tis  our  Creator's  voice  that  speaks 
in  love  and  tenderness. 

Dip  down  upon  the  northern  shore, 
O  sweet  new  year,  delaying  long : 
Thou  doest  expectant  Nature  wrong ; 

Delaying  long,  delay  no  more. 

Who  stays  thee  from  the  clouded  noons, 
Thy  sweetness  from  its  proper  place  ? 
Can  trouble  live  with  April  days, 

Or  sadness  in  the  summer  noons  ? 

Where  now  the  seamew  pipes,  or  dives 
In  yonder  greening  gleam,  and  fly 
The  happy  birds,  that  change  their  sky 

To  build  and  brood,  that  live  their  lives 

From  land  to  land ;  and  in  my  breast 
Spring  wakens  too  ;  and  my  regret 
Becomes  an  April  violet, 

And  buds  and  blossoms  like  the  rest. 

ALFRED   TENNYSON. 
[98] 


JOHN   KEATS 
1795-1821 


APRIL   SECOND. 

A  DAY  OF  VIOLETS. 

DEEP  violets,  you  liken  to 
The  kindest  eyes  that  look  on  you, 
Without  a  thought  disloyal. 

E.    B.   BROWNING. 


May  their  sweetness  pervade  your  lives;  and  may 
you,  like  them,  be  adorned  with  the  grace  of  humility, 
that  your  good  deeds  may  shed  their  fragrance,  and 
make  glad  the  earth  !  Hold  up  your  hearts  for  the 
truth,  and  God  will  fill  them  with  drops  of  love,  as  the 
cup  of  the  violet  is  filled  with  the  dews  of  Heaven.  So 
shall  you  grow  like  an  April  violet,  blossoming  in  the 
garden  of  God's  world,  refreshing  the  highways  of  life's 
beautiful  Spring. 

Violets  !  deep-blue  violets  ! 
April's  loveliest  coronets  ! 
There  are  no  flowers  grow  in  the  vale 
Kiss'd  by  the  dew,  woo'd  by  the  gale,  — 
None  by  the  dew  of  the  twilight  wet, 
So  sweet  as  the  deep-blue  violet. 

LETITIA   E.    LANDON. 

We  are  violets  blue, 

For  our  sweetness  found 
Careless  in  the  mossy  shades, 

Looking  on  the  ground. 
Love  dropp'd  eyelids  and  a  kiss,  — 
Such  our  breath  and  blueness  is. 

LEIGH   HUNT. 

[99] 


APRIL  THIRD. 

"  "\  T  THEN  I  consider  the  heavens  the  work  of  Thy 
»  V    fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars  which  Thou 
hast  ordained,  what  is  man  that  Thou  art  mindful  of 
him,  and  the  son  of  man  that  Thou  regardest  him  ? " 

Addison,  who  was  once  surveying  the  heavens,  said, 
.  .  .  "When  I  considered  the  infinite  hosts  of  stars, 
or  to  speak  more  philosophically,  of  suns,  which  were 
then  shining  upon  me,  with  those  innumerable  sets  of 
planets  or  worlds  which  were  moving  around  their  re- 
spective suns,  ...  I  could  but  reflect  on  that  little 
insignificant  figure  which  I  myself  bore  amidst  the 
immensity  of  God's  works." 

Thou  art,  O  God,  the  life  and  light 
Of  all  this  wondrous  world  we  see ; 

Its  glow  by  day,  its  smile  by  night, 
Are  but  reflections  caught  from  Thee. 

Where'er  we  turn  Thy  glories  shine, 

And  all  things  bright  and  fair  are  Thine  ! 

When  youthful  Spring  around  us  breathes, 
Thy  spirit  warms  her  fragrant  sigh  ; 

And  every  flower  the  summer  wreathes 
Is  born  beneath  that  kindling  eye : 

Where'er  we  turn,  Thy  glories  shine, 

And  all  things  fair  and  bright  are  Thine  ! 

THOMAS   MOORE. 

Thou  that  hast  given  so  much  to  me, 
Give  one  thing  more,  a  grateful  heart. 
Not  thankful  when  it  pleaseth  me, 
As  if  Thy  blessings  had  spare  days  ; 
But  such  a  heart,  whose  pulse  may  be 
Thy  praise. 

G.    HERBERT. 
[100] 


APRIL  FOURTH. 

HE  who  dares  not,  fail  he  must ! 
Only  let  the  cause  be  just, 
Then  have  courage,  thou  shalt  win  — 
Let  thy  task  at  once  begin. 

Does  life's  pilgrimage  seem  long?  Did  yesterday's 
trials  discourage  you  for  to-day?  Trials  fall  to  the  lot 
of  all  mankind,  therefore  you  will  have  your  share. 
Meet  them  bravely,  bear  them  cheerfully,  and  do  not  let 
them  dishearten  you.  Arm  yourself  with  Courage,  and 
you  will  ride  over  difficulties ;  a  spirit  of  valor  is  needed 
every  day  to  overcome  the  evil  in  your  nature,  and  it  is 
only  by  continued  warfare  that  you  may  hope  to  be 
victorious. 

Brave  spirits  are  a  balsam  to  themselves. 

CARTWRIGHT. 

True  valor,  friends,  on  virtue  founded  strong, 
Meets  all  events  alike. 

MALLET. 

The  intent  and  not  the  deed 

Is  in  our  power ;  and  therefore  who  dares  greatly, 

Does  greatly. 

BROWN. 

True  fortitude  is  seen  in  great  exploits 

That  justice  warrants,  and  that  wisdom  guides. 

ADDISON. 

The  brave  man  is  not  he  who  feels  no  fear, 

For  that  were  stupid  and  irrational ; 

But  he  whose  noble  soul  its  fear  subdues, 

And  bravely  dares  the  danger  nature  shrinks  from. 

JOANNA  BAILLIE. 
[«*] 


APRIL  FIFTH. 

MAY  this  day  end  in  a  peaceful  evening,  when  the 
tumults  of  your  heart,  and  mine,  shall  be  hushed 
to  rest,  and  discords  steal  away  amid  the  gloom  !  The 
close  of  each  day  will  be  welcome  indeed,  if  we  but 
will  it  so.  Even  though  our  sun  sets  in  shadow,  and 
our  spirits  are  sorrowing,  an  inward  calm  shall  lend 
tranquillity  to  our  minds,  and  soothe  them  into  sweet 
repose.  Let  us  then  possess  this  peace  within,  whose 
presence  shall  make  every  storm  a  calm. 

The  twilight  star  to  Heaven, 
And  the  summer  dew  to  flowers, 

And  the  rest  to  us  is  given 

By  the  cool,  soft,  evening  hours. 

FELICIA   HEMANS. 

God  who  madest  earth  and  heaven, 

Darkness  and  light, 
Who  the  day  for  toil  hast  given, 

For  rest  the  night, 
May  Thine  angel-guards  defend  us, 
Slumber  sweet  Thy  mercy  send  us, 
Holy  dreams  and  hopes  attend  us, 

This  livelong  night. 

Guard  us  waking,  guard  us  sleeping, 

And  when  we  die, 
May  we  in  Thy  mighty  keeping 

All  peaceful  lie ; 

When  the  last  dread  call  shall  wake  us, 
Do  not  Thou  our  God  forsake  us, 
But  to  reign  in  glory  take  us 

With  Thee  on  high. 

REGINALD   HEBER. 

[102] 


APRIL  SIXTH. 

THE  hours  are  flying  !  Change  sets  her  seal  on  all 
about  us,  and  we,  with  all  the  world,  are  changing 
too.  But  why  complain?  Would  we  sit  idly  down, 
nor  soil  our  hands,  nor  tire  our  feet,  nor  take  no  part  in 
the  affairs  of  life  ?  Would  we  rather  not  bear  the  signs 
of  labor  on  our  brows,  than  have  them  smooth  and 
fair,  too  fair  alas,  to  win  the  toiler's  crown?  Would 
we  not  far  rather  show  our  Lord  brown,  withered,  weary 
hands  that  have  their  noble  work  done,  in  loving,  faith- 
ful servitude,  than  lift  to  Him  a  useless  pair,  though 
white  and  beautiful  they  look  to  human  eyes?  Me- 
thinks  the  hand  best  skilled  to  patient  labor  here,  shall 
sweeter  play  the  harps  above.  The  feet,  though  falter- 
ing, tired,  and  worn,  whose  pilgrimage  ends  nearest 
Heaven,  methinks  with  gladdest  steps  shall  tread  the 
golden  streets  of  God.'  Oh,  then  let  Change  and  Time 
sweep  on  ;  it  matters  little,  so  we  change  to  ripe  fruition, 
and  our  souls  are  ready  for  His  aftermath. 

Well,  —  give  the  little  Years  their  way ; 

Think,  speak,  and  act  the  while ; 
Lift  up  the  bare  front  to  the  day, 

And  make  their  wrinkles  smile. 
They  mould  the  noblest  living  head ; 
They  carve  the  best  tomb  for  the  dead. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Lord,  we  have  wandered  forth  through  doubt  and 
sorrow, 

And  thou  hast  made  each  step  an  onward  one ; 
And  we  will  ever  trust  each  unknown  morrow,  — 

Thou  wilt  sustain  us  till  its  work  is  done. 

S.  JOHNSON. 
[103] 


APRIL   SEVENTH. 

LIGHT  is  our  sorrow,  for  it  ends  to-morrow, 
Light  is  our  death  which  cannot  hold  us  fast ; 
So  brief  a  sorrow  can  be  scarcely  sorrow, 
Or  death  be  death  so  quickly  past. 

One  night,  no  more,  of  pain  that  turns  to  pleasure, 
One  night,  no  more,  of  weeping,  weeping  sore ; 
And  then  the  heaped-up  measure  beyond  measure, 
In  quietness  forevermore. 

Our  sails  are  set  to  cross  the  tossing  river, 
Our  face  is  set  to  reach  Jerusalem ; 
We  toil  awhile  but  then  we  rest  forever, 
Sing  with  all  saints  and  rest  above  with  them. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 

Joy  will  be  sweet  indeed  that  follows  sorrow,  and 
rest  will  be  welcome  that  follows  toil.  How  gladly 
shall  we  lay  down  our  burdens,  and,  ever  keeping  in 
view  the  New  Jerusalem,  journey  on  to  find  our  prom- 
ised rest.  The  river  will  not  be  dark  or  troublous  if 
lighted  by  the  Divine  Presence ;  the  way  will  not  be 
long  if  He  bears  us  company ;  our  hearts  shall  not  faint 
nor  shrink  if  He  is  near  to  cheer  and  comfort  us.  Then 
shall  all  earthly  sorrows  vanish,  and  our  faces  reflect 
the  sunlight  of  His  gladness,  and  the  beauty  of  His 
smile. 

There's  no  way  to  make  sorrow  light 

But  in  the  noble  bearing ;  be  content ; 

Blows  given  from  Heaven  are  our  due  punishment ; 

All  shipwrecks  are  not  drowning ;  you  see  buildings 

Made  fairer  from  their  ruins. 

WILLIAM   ROWLEY. 

[104] 


APRIL   EIGHTH. 

COME,  let  us  spend  a  day  with  the  birds!  Nature's 
jubilee-choir  has  begun  to  chant  the  glad  hallelu- 
jahs of  the  year.  The  vales  are  trills  of  rapture,  the 
brooks  are  symphonies  of  joy,  and  the  rocks  are  har- 
monies of  sound.  What  a  grand  orchestra!  How 
everything  vibrates  to  the  rhythmical  measure!  Learn 
a  lesson  to-day ;  take  the  birds  for  your  text ;  every 
song  is  tuned  to  the  key-note  of  praise ;  this  gush  of 
gladness  is  the  overflowing  of  joyous  hearts  in  thank- 
fulness to  God.  Ye  human  hearts,  like  them  unite  your 
songs  in  adoration  sweet! 

And  the  blackbirds  helped  us  with  the  story,  for  they 

knew  it  well. 

Piping,  fluting,  "  Bees  are  humming, 
April's  here,  and  summer's  coming." 

JEAN   INGELOW. 

The  welcome  guest  of  settled  Spring, 
The  swallow  too  is  come  at  last ; 

Just  at  sunset,  when  thrushes  sing, 

I  saw  her  dash  with  rapid  wing, 
And  hailed  her  as  she  passed. 

CHARLOTTE   SMITH. 

Hark,  hark  !  the  lark  at  Heaven's  gate  sings! 

SHAKESPEARE. 

See  yon  robin  on  the  spray, 

Look  ye  how  his  tiny  form 
Swells,  as  when  his  merry  lay 

Gushes  forth  amid  the  storm. 

HARRISON   WEIR. 

[105] 


APRIL   NINTH. 

Time  hath  laid  his  mantle  by 
A      Of  wind  and  rain  and  icy  chill, 
And  dons  a  rich  embroidery 

Of  sunlight  poured  on  lake  and  hill. 

No  beast  or  bird  in  earth  or  sky, 
Whose  voice  doth  not  with  gladness  thrill, 

For  Time  hath  laid  his  mantle  by 
Of  rain  and  wind  and  icy  chill. 

CHARLES   OF   ORLEANS. 

You  who  have  longed  and  waited  for  the  Spring, 
behold  how  gently  and  how  blithely  she  comes!  All 
in  the  silence  her  glad  feet  come  tripping  over  the  hills, 
and  each  day  she  has  a  sweet  surprise  in  store  for  us  : 
she  sings  a  rhythmical  song  in  the  echoing  woods,  and 
spreads  a  beautiful  mosaic  over  all  the  wide  corridors 
of  the  created  world  —  a  mosaic  of  richest  design  and 
color,  fashioned  and  formed  by  the  hand  of  God. 

This  magnificent  tapestry  of  flowers,  and  leaves,  and 
velvety  moss  is  spread  for  the  feet  of  man.  It  is  free 
as  the  air  we  breathe,  —  ours  to  enjoy,  to  appropriate, 
and  to  be  thankful  for,  and  ours  to  give  to  others  who 
may  not  see  its  loveliness  or  smell  its  fragrance. 

Gather  the  primroses, 

Make  handfuls  into  posies  ; 

Take  them  to  the  little  girls  who  are  at  work  in  the 

mills ; 

Pluck  the  violets  blue, — 
Ah,  pluck  not  a  few  ! 
Knowest  thou  what  good  thoughts  from  Heaven  the 

violet  instills  ? 

EDWARD  YOUL. 

[106] 


APRIL  TENTH. 

SOME  one  has  said,  "There  is  sacredness  in  tears. 
They  are  not  the  mark  of  weakness,  but  of  power. 
They  speak  more  eloquently  than  ten  thousand  tongues. 
They  are  the  messengers  of  overwhelming  grief,  of 
deep  contrition,  and  of  unspeakable  love." 

No  radiant  pearl  which  crested  fortune  wears, 
No  gem  that,  twinkling,  hung  from  beauty's  ears, 
Not  the  bright  stars,  which  night's  blue  arch  adorn, 
Nor  rising  sun  that  gilds  the  vernal  morn, 
Shines  with  such  lustre  as  the  tear  that  flows 
Down  virtue's  manly  cheek  for  others'  woes. 

DARWIN. 


The  rose  is  fairest  when  'tis  budding  new, 
And  hope  is  brightest  when  it  dawns  from  fears  ; 
The  rose  is  sweetest  wash'd  with  morning  dew, 
And  love  is  loveliest  when  embalm'd  in  tears. 

SCOTT. 


All  the  rarest  hues  of  human  life  take  radiance  and 
are  rainbowed  out  in  tears.  —  GERALD  MASSEY. 


Sooner  mayest  thou  trust  thy  pocket  to  a  pickpocket 
than  give  loyal  friendship  to  a  man  who  boasts  of  eyes 
to  which  the  heart  never  mounts  in  dew!  Only  when 
man  weeps  he  should  be  alone,  not  because  tears  are 
weak,  but  they  should  be  secret.  Tears  are  akin  to 
prayer ;  Pharisees  parade  prayers,  imposters  parade 
tears.  — BULWER. 

[107] 


APRIL   ELEVENTH. 

THE  temple  of  God  is  holy,  which  temple  ye  are.  — 
I  CORINTHIANS  3  :  17. 

We  are  building  for  Eternity  —  what  a  responsibility 
is  ours !  Each  day  your  temple  and  mine  counts  an 
added  stone ;  let  us  make  them  such  that  the  great 
Builder  will  not  reject ;  and  let  us  choose  only  the  best 
material,  and  build  on  the  Sure  Foundation  —  which  is 
Jesus  Christ.  There  are  no  perfect  spiritual  temples  in 
this  life  ;  each  stone  must  first  be  polished  by  the  hand 
of  God  before  it  can  reach  perfection.  But  we  may  do 
our  part,  and  chisel  off  the  rough  corners  as  best  we 
can,  leaving  the  rest  to  Him.  Let  our  aim  be  to  build 
as  near  Heaven  as  we  can,  and  to  make  ourselves  wor- 
thy to  be  called  "  temples  of  the  Living  God." 

Whereas  on  earth 

Temples  and  palaces  are  formed  of  parts 
Costly  and  rare,  but  all  material, 
So  in  the  world  of  spirits  nought  is  found, 
To  mould  withal  and  form  into  a  whole, 
But  what  is  immaterial ;  and  thus 
The  smallest  portion  of  this  edifice, 
Cornice,  or  frieze,  or  balustrade,  or  stair, 
The  very  pavement  is  made  up  of  life  — 
Of  holy,  blessed,  and  immortal  beings, 
Who  hymn  their  Maker's  praise  continually. 

J.    H.    NEWMAN. 

Now  shed  Thy  mighty  influence  abroad 
On  souls  that  would  their  Father's  image  bear ; 
Make  us  as  holy  temples  of  our  God, 
Where  dwells  forever  calm,  adoring  prayer. 

c.  j.  P.  SPITTA. 
[108] 


APRIL   TWELFTH. 

WHEN  gratitude  overflows  the  swelling  heart, 
And  breathes  in  free  and  uncorrupted  praise 
For  benefits  receiv'd,  propitious  Heaven 
Takes  such  acknowledgment  as  fragrant  incense, 
And  doubles  all  his  blessings. 

GEORGE  LILLO. 

Learn  to  be  grateful ;  don't  take  blessings  and  favors 
as  a  matter  of  course :  you  have  done  nothing  to  merit 
them,  and  why  should  you  receive  them  as  if  they 
were  your  right  ?  You  owe  God  everything.  What 
have  you  done  for  Him  ?  To  begin  with,  He  has 
given  you  life,  and  instead  of  being  thankful  for  every 
breath  you  draw,  you  murmur  and  complain  that  your 
lot  was  not  cast  in  a  different  place,  that  you  must 
have  trials,  that  you  must  suffer  pain,  that  you  must 
shed  tears,  and  bear  sorrow,  and  have  disappointments, 
and  lose  friends,  and  oh,  basest  ingratitude  !  you  often 
grieve  Him  by  wishing  that  He  had  never  given  you 
life  at  all.  Get  all  you  can  out  of  this  gift ;  be  glad 
that  you  are  alive,  and  make  yourself  a  part  of  creation 
and  God  ;  look  up  to  Him  and  be  thankful.  And  when 
loving  favors  are  showered  upon  you  by  earthly  friends, 
receive  them  with  loving  gratitude ;  often  they  have 
been  extended  to  you  through  some  act  of  self-denial, 
the  meaning  of  which  you  may  never  understand.  Let 
your  whole  life  be  one  of  gratitude,  and  take  the  oppor- 
tunity to  show  it  whenever  you  can. 

A  grateful  mind 

By  owing  owes  not,  but  still  pays,  at  once, 
Indebted  and  discharg'd. 

MILTON. 
[109] 


APRIL  THIRTEENTH. 

the  pure  mind  alone  hath  solitude 
Its  charms. 

ANONYMOUS. 

An  hour  of  solitude,  passed  in  sincere  and  earnest 
prayer  or  conflict  with,  and  conquest  over,  a  single 
passion  or  subtle  bosom  sin,  will  teach  us  more  of 
thought,  will  more  effectually  awaken  the  faculty  and 
form  the  habit  of  reflection  than  a  year's  study  in  the 
schools  without  them.  — COLERIDGE. 

'Tis  sweet  to  be  alone  and  turn  our  thoughts  inward ; 
to  muse  on  what  we  are  —  how  wonderfully  made,  how 
mightily  endowed ;  to  meditate  on  God's  eternal  wis- 
dom, goodness,  love.  No  human  sculptor  can  per- 
fectly imitate  man ;  he  may  chisel  a  beautiful  work  of 
art  so  exquisitely  that  the  world  shall  hold  him  in 
remembrance  as  long  as  it  lasts,  but  even  then  his 
masterpiece  is  but  cold  marble  and  will  crumble  to 
dust.  There  is  no  light  in  the  eyes,  no  breath  in  the 
nostrils,  no  smile  on  the  lips,  and  no  blood  in  the 
heart.  God's  masterpiece  lives,  and  moves,  and  sees, 
and  hears,  and  feels :  and  yet  he  is  but  a  thought  of 
God,  His  great,  immortal  thought  —  a  living  soul.  In 
the  solitude  man  was  created,  when  light,  and  darkness, 
and  sea,  and  sky,  and  land  were  new,  and  when  no  life, 
save  the  Divine  Life,  had  existence.  In  the  solitude  of 
the  beginning  of  time  man's  career  began,  before  the 
cycles  past  and  gone  had  started  on  their  pilgrimage. 
What  marvel  then  that  man  should  wish  to  turn  aside 
for  silent  meditation,  when  Solitude  cries  out  to  him 
to  look  within  and  hear  the  voices  of  his  soul,  and 
Nature's  speech,  in  gentle  tone,  beseeches  him  to  look 
without  and  see  what  God  has  wrought ! 
[no] 


APRIL  FOURTEENTH. 

LET  this  be  to  you  a  day  of  resurrection ! 
Now  when  all  Nature  is  waking  out  of  its  long 
winter  sleep,  and  donning  robes  of  freshness  and 
brightness,  shake  off  the  gloom  that  envelops  your 
spirit,  and  like  the  chrysalis,  let  your  soul  mount  up 
on  gladsome  wing  and  soar  to  greater  heights  of  love 
and  joy.  Leave  behind  your  dull,  dark  self,  your  load 
of  care,  and  all  that  frets  or  weighs  you  down.  Feast 
on  Nature's  freshness  and  bloom,  drink  in  her  sunshine 
and  dew,  and  let  your  soul  look  up  to  God  and  be  glad. 
It  is  a  time  to  think  of  Christ  and  His  resurrection,  a 
time  to  remember  His  glorious  awakening — His  tri- 
umph over  the  cross,  His  victory  over  death.  It  is  the 
fair  Easter-tide  of  the  year;  when  the  dark  brown 
bulbs  are  stirring  and  swelling  under  the  silent  earth, 
and  making  sweet  preparation  to  burst  into  lilies  of 
beauty  and  fragrance.  So,  too,  may  your  soul  blossom 
into  deeds  of  purity  and  peace  ! 


Awake,  thou  wintry  earth ! 

Fling  off  thy  sadness  ! 
Fair  vernal  flowers,  laugh  forth 

Your  ancient  gladness : 
Christ  is  risen ! 

All  is  fresh  and  new, 

Full  of  spring  and  light : 
Wintry  heart,  why  wear'st  the  hue 

Of  sleep  and  night  ? 
Christ  is  risen ! 

THOMAS  BLACKBURN. 
[Ill] 


APRIL   FIFTEENTH. 

THE  word  of  the  Lord  came  unto  me,  saying, 
Jeremiah,  what  seest  thou? 
And  I  said,  I  see  a  rod  of  an  Almond-tree. 

JEREMIAH  1 :  1 1 . 

Blossom  of  the  almond-trees, 
April's  gift  to  April's  bees, 
Birthday  ornament  of  spring, 
Flora's  fairest  daughterling ; 
Coming  when  no  flowerets  dare 
Trust  the  cruel  outer  air, 
When  the  royal  king-cup  bold 
Dares  not  don  his  coat  of  gold, 
And  the  sturdy  blackthorn  spray 
Keeps  his  silver  for  the  May ;  — 
Coming  when  no  flowerets  would, 
Save  thy  lowly  sisterhood  — 
Early  violets,  blue  and  white, 
Dying  for  their  love  of  light. 

Almond  blossoms,  sent  to  teach  us 

That  the  spring  days  soon  will  reach  us, 

Lest,  with  longing  over-tried, 

We  die  as  the  violets  died,  — 

Blossom  clouding  all  the  tree 

With  thy  crimson  broidery, 

Long  before  a  leaf  of  green 

On  the  bravest  bough  is  seen,  — 

Ah !  when  winter  winds  are  swinging 

All  the  red  bells  into  ringing, 

With  a  bee  in  every  bell, 

Almond  bloom,  we  greet  thee  well. 

EDWIN   ARNOLD. 

[112] 


APRIL  SIXTEENTH. 

\  ~\  7E  read  of  Jacob's  ladder ;  Christ  is  Jacob's  ladder 
»  V  that  reacheth  up  to  Heaven,  and  he  that 
refuses  to  go  by  this  ladder  thither,  will  scarce  by  any 
other  means  get  up  so  high.  There  is  none  other 
name  given  under  Heaven  among  men  whereby  we 
must  be  saved.  —  BUNYAN. 

Aye,  and  Christ  sends  down  to  us  His  angel  messen- 
gers, to  whisper  tender  words  from  Heaven ;  and 
silently  they  come  and  go  upon  the  ladder  of  His  love, 
which  we,  too,  may  ascend  if  Faith  illumes  our  way 
and  points  us  through  the  skies. 

Ah !  many  a  time  we  look  on  starlit  nights 

Up  to  the  sky  as  Jacob  did  of  old ; 
Look  longing  up  to  the  eternal  lights, 

To  spell  their  lives  of  gold. 


Yet,  to  pure  eyes  the  ladder  still  is  set, 
And  Angel  visitants  still  come  and  go ; 

Many  bright  messengers  are  moving  yet, 
From  the  dark  world  below. 

Thoughts,  that  are  surely  Faith's  outspreading  wings - 
Prayers  of  the  church,  aye,  keeping  time  and  tryst  - 

Heart-wishes  making  bee-like  murmurings, 
Their  flower,  the  Eucharist. 

These  are  the  messengers,  forever  wending 
From  earth  to  Heaven,  that  faith  alone  may  scan ; 

These  are  the  Angels  of  our  God,  descending 
Upon  the  Son  of  Man. 

W.    ALEXANDER. 


APRIL   SEVENTEENTH. 

BE  careful  how  you  make  a  promise;  look  ahead 
first,  and  see  that  you  will  be  able  to  keep  it.  A 
"  man  of  his  word,"  if  unpopular  otherways,  possesses  at 
least  one  admirable  quality.  It  is  easy  enough  to  make 
a  promise,  but  not  always  so  easy  to  fulfil  it,  therefore 
count  the  cost  before  your  word  is  pledged.  Some- 
times circumstances  make  it  necessary  for  us  to  break 
a  promise,  and  if  such  is  the  case,  let  us  frankly  state 
the  reason,  and  ask  to  be  released  from  our  obliga- 
tion. It  is  more  honorable  even  to  break  one's  word, 
than  to  commit  an  unpardonable  wrong  simply  for  the 
sake  of  keeping  it.  It  is  well  to  make  few  promises,  and 
then  there  will  be  few  to  break,  but  if  we  do  make  them 
let  us  fulfil  them,  if  we  can  possibly  do  so.  The  world 
always  has  a  place  for  the  man  who  can  be  depended 
upon,  and  whose  word  is  as  good  as  his  bond. 

Promising  is  the  very  air  of  the 

Time;  it  opens  the  eyes  of  expectation. 

Performance  is  ever  the  duller  for 

His  act ;  and,  but  in  the  plainer  and  simpler 

Kind  of  people,  the  deed  is  quite  of 

Use.     To  promise  is  most  courtly  and  fashionable ; 

Performance  is  a  kind  of  will  or  testament, 

Which  argues  a  great  sickness  in  his  judgment 

That  makes  it. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


Promises  were  the  ready  money  that  was  first  coined 
and  made   current  by  the  law   of  nature,  to  support 
that  society  and  commerce  that  was  necessary  for  the 
comfort  and  security  of  mankind.  —  CLARENDON. 
["4] 


APRIL  EIGHTEENTH. 

Behold  a  sower  went  forth  to  sow: 

ND  when  he  sowed,  some  seeds  fell  by  the  way- 

side: 

Some  fell  upon  stony  places  : 
And  some  fell  among  thorns  ; 

But  other  fell   into  good  ground,  and  brought  forth 
fruit." 

Prepare  your  ground  before  you  sow ;  let  it  be  rich 
and  fertile  ;  turn  up  the  sod  to  the  sunlight,  dews,  and 
showers  of  Heaven:  scatter  your  seed,  and  —  wait. 
Likewise,  make  ready  your  heart-soil :  baptize  it  with 
tears,  and  warm  it  with  smiles,  and  while  the  summer 
winds  are  blowing  soft  and  sweet,  and  while  the  sum- 
mer moons  in  silence  wax  and  wane,  be  patient,  Heart, 
and  —  wait.  God  guards  the  smallest  seed  ;  His  Har- 
vest-time is  sure  to  come ;  your  ripened  wheat  shall  be 
His  care,  your  tares  His  loving  heart  shall  grieve. 

Sow  with  a  generous  hand ; 

Pause  not  for  toil  or  pain  ; 
Weary  not  through  the  heat  of  summer, 

Weary  not  through  the  cold  spring  rain : 
But  wait  till  the  autumn  comes, 

For  the  sheaves  of  golden  grain. 

Then  sow,  —  for  the  hours  are  fleeting, 

And  the  seed  must  fall  to-day, 
And  care  not  what  hands  shall  reap  it, 

Or  if  you  shall  have  passed  away 
Before  the  waving  cornfields 

Shall  gladden  the  sunny  day. 

ADELAIDE   A.    PROCTER. 

["5] 


APRIL  NINETEENTH. 

HOW  many  mistakes  we  make,  and  how  much  we 
have  to  regret!  We  can  sit  down  for  a  few 
moments  and  think  of  these  things  until  they  almost 
overwhelm  us.  We  can  look  back  on  our  past  lives, 
and  see,  as  in  a  glass,  the  reflection  of  so  much  that  we 
would  give  almost  anything  to  recall.  There  are  so 
many  ways  in  which  to  make  mistakes  ;  sometimes  they 
can  hardly  be  avoided,  and  we  are  not  responsible  for 
them,  but  oftentimes  they  are  made  through  igno- 
rance, —  ignorance  through  neglected  opportunities,  — 
and  through  carelessness  and  indifference :  we  might 
have  avoided  them  had  we  only  tried.  Shall  we  not 
endeavor  to  be  less  heedless  hereafter?  Regretting  is 
such  sorrow,  let  us  give  it  no  cause  to  shadow  our  lives 
and  the  lives  of  others- 


Lifelong  our  stumbles,  lifelong  our  regret, 
Lifelong  our  efforts  failing  and  renewed, 

While  lifelong  is  our  witness,  "  God  is  good." 
Who  bore  with  us  till  now,  bears  with  us  yet, 
Who  still  remembers  and  will  not  forget, 

Who  gives  us  light  and  warmth  and  daily  food, 
And  gracious  promises  half  understood, 

And  glories  half  revealed,  whereon  to  set 

Our  heart  of  hearts  and  eyes  of  our  desire  ; 
Uplifting  us  to  longing  and  to  love, 

Luring  us  upward  from  this  world  of  mire, 
Urging  us  to  press  on  and  mount  above 
Ourselves  and  all  we  have  had  experience  of, 

Mounting  to  Him  in  love's  perpetual  fire. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 

[1x6] 


APRIL  TWENTIETH. 

SPEECH    is    silver,    silence    is    gold.  —  GERMAN 
PROVERB. 

Silence  is  the  perfectest  herald  joy  : 

I  were  but  little  happy,  if  I  could  say  how  much. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

It  is  the  silent  influence,  after  all,  that  makes  or 
mars  our  lives.  It  is  the  look  or  action,  often,  that 
carries  the  greatest  weight,  and  that  speaks  more  elo- 
quently than  the  tongue.  A  man's  real  life  is  the  life 
that  the  world  never  knows  or  understands  :  you  may 
think  you  can  read  it  like  a  book,  but  I  think  the  best, 
as  well  as  the  worst,  that  is  in  him  is  only  revealed  to 
his  God.  If  he  is  modest,  he  is  often  chary  of  giving 
of  his  best ;  if  he  is  proud,  he  carefully  guards  his  worst, 
so  that  only  in  the  silent  chambers  of  his  soul  do  these 
two  antagonists  have  their  abode,  sending  forth  an 
occasional  thought  or  look  or  action  to  give  the  world 
a  hint  that  they  are  there.  O  friend,  make  your  silent 
influence  pure  and  holy ;  let  your  fellow-men  feel  that 
your  inner  life  means  something.  Retire  to  the  silence 
of  yourself,  and  commune  with  God,  and  make  the 
result  of  that  communion  a  benefit  to  mankind. 

The  silence  often  of  pure  innocence 
Persuades,  when  speaking  fails. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

O  Breath  from  out  the  Eternal  Silence!  blow 
Softly  upon  our  spirits1  barren  ground  ; 

The  precious  fulness  of  our  God  bestow, 

That  fruits  of  faith,  love,  reverence  may  abound. 

G.   TERSTEEGEN. 
t"7] 


APRIL  TWENTY-FIRST. 

"\  ~\  7HEN  we  gather  all  our  blossoms  of  hope  before 
•  *  they  reach  fruition,  they  wither  in  their  fresh, 
sweet  youth,  and  leave  but  empty  nothingness.  Watch 
them,  one  by  one,  guard  them  tenderly  —  the  budding 
apple-blossoms  of  joy  and  hope  that  hang  heavy  from 
life's  green  tree :  let  them  grow  sweeter,  fuller  every 
day,  until,  at  God's  great  Harvest-time,  they  shall  drop 
ripened  to  the  ground,  in  deeds  of  richest  gold. 


Our  wants,  our  wishes,  —  yea,  our  hopes  and  fears, 

Lie  folded  like  the  apple-blooms  ; 
With  modesty  flushing, 
Like  them  are  they  blushing, 

And  white  in  their  purity 
Are  waiting  futurity ; 
Thus  in  their  silken  cells  they  lie 

Our  heart's  own  cherished  apple-blooms 
That  thrive  and  grow,  and  ripen  with  the  years. 


What  inexpressible  joy  for  me  to  look  up  through 
the  apple-blossoms  and  the  fluttering  leaves,  and  to 
see  God's  love  there ;  to  listen  to  the  thrush  that  has 
built  his  nest  among  them,  and  to  feel  God's  love,  who 
cares  for  the  birds,  in  every  note  that  swells  their  little 
throats ;  to  look  beyond  to  the  bright  blue  depths  of 
the  sky,  and  feel  they  are  a  canopy  of  blessing ;  .  .  . 
and  to  know  that  if  I  could  unwrap  fold  after  fold  of 
God's  universe,  I  should  only  unfold  more  and  more 
blessing,  and  see  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  love  which 
is  at  the  heart  of  all.  —  ELIZABETH  CHARLES. 
[«*] 


T 


APRIL   TWENTY-SECOND. 

HE  Homes  of  England!     God   bless   them,   and 
may  they  all  be  happy  ones! 

The  stately  Homes  of  England, 
How  beautiful  they  stand! 
Amidst  their  tall  ancestral  trees, 
O'er  all  the  pleasant  land ; 

The  blessed  Homes  of  England! 

How  softly  on  their  bowers 

Is  laid  the  holy  quietness 

That  breathes  from  Sabbath  hours! 

Solemn,  yet  sweet,  the  church-bell's  chime 

Floats  through  their  woods  at  morn ; 

All  other  sounds,  in  that  still  time, 

Of  breeze  and  leaf  are  born. 

The  cottage  Homes  of  England! 

By  thousands  on  her  plains, 

They  are  smiling  o'er  the  silvery  brooks, 

And  round  the  hamlet-fanes. 

Through  glowing  orchards  forth  they  peep, 

Each  from  its  nook  of  leaves  ; 

And  fearless  there  the  lowly  sleep, 

As  the  birds  beneath  their  eaves. 

The  free,  fair  Homes  of  England! 

Long,  long  in  hut  and  hall, 

May  hearts  of  native  proof  be  reared 

To  guard  each  hallowed  wall! 

And  green  forever  be  the  groves, 

And  bright  the  flowery  sod, 

Where  first  the  child's  glad  spirit  loves 

Its  country  and  its  God. 

FELICIA   HEMANS. 

["9] 


APRIL   TWENTY-THIRD. 

T  IFE  —  let  it  be  to  you  a  reality ;  remember  it  is 
-I — '  the  breath  of  God ;  if  you  do  not  realize  this,  you 
have  never  learned  to  value  it.  God  has  given  it  to 
you  pure  and  innocent ;  let  it  be  your  business  to  keep 
it  so.  He  has  placed  within  its  reach  possibilities ; 
make  it  your  aim  to  be  all  that  He  intended  you  to  be, 
and  let  no  opportunity  pass  unimproved.  In  the  very 
humblest  lives,  and  amid  the  poorest  surroundings, 
there  is  always  a  chance  to  climb,  if  you  will  watch  for 
it,  and  take  it  when  it  comes.  It  may  be  at  a  time 
when  least  expected,  it  may  be  in  a  way  you  would  not 
choose,  but  if  it  is  God's  opportunity  for  you,  why  ques- 
tion the  time  or  way  ?  Make  your  life  a  reflection  of 
His  life,  and  it  will  breathe  out  some  of  His  sweetness, 
and  gladden  the  lives  of  others. 

Be  not  amazed  at  life.     'Tis  still 
The  mode  of  God  with  His  elect, 

Their  hopes  exactly  to  fulfil, 

In  times  and  ways  they  least  expect. 

DEAN  ALFORD. 

Didst  fancy  life  one  Summer  holiday, 

With  lessons  none  to  learn,  and  naught  but  play? 

Go,  get  thee  to  thy  task.     Conquer  or  die! 

It  must  be  learned ;  learn  it  then  patiently. 

No  help !  nay,  'tis  not  so ; 
Though  human  help  be  far,  thy  God  is  nigh, 
Who  feeds  the  ravens,  hears  His  children's  cry ; 
He's  near  thee  wheresoe'er  thy  footsteps  roam, 
And  He  will  guide  thee,  light  thee,  help  thee  Home. 

ANONYMOUS. 
[120] 


A 


APRIL   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

DAY  of  noble  activity,  —  God  help  you  to  do 
your  best  in  it ! 


There, is  no  action  so  slight  nor  so  mean  but  it  may 

Jbe  done  to  a  great  purpose,  and  ennobled  therefore^; 
nor  is  any  purpose  so  jjreat  but  that  slight  actions  may 
help  it,  and  may  be  so  done  as  to  help  it  much,  most, 
especially,  that  chief  of  all  purposes  —  the  pleasing  of 
God.  —  RUSKIN. 

One  secret  act  of  self-denial,  one  sacrifice  of  inclina- 
tion to  duty,  is  worth  all  the  mere  good  thoughts, 
warm  feelings,  passionate  prayers  in  which  idle  people 
indulge  themselves. — j.  H.  NEWMAN. 

When  first  thy  eyes  unveil,  give  thy  soul  leave 
To  do  the  like ;  our  bodies  but  forerun 

The  spirit's  duty ;  true  hearts  spread  and  heave 
Unto  their  God,  as  flowers  do  to  the  sun. 

H.  VAUGHAN. 

Get  leave  to  work  ; 

In  this  world  'tis  the  best  you  get  at  all : 
For  God,  in  cursing,  gives  us  better  gifts 
Than  man  in  benediction. 

E.  B.  BROWNING. 

Worship  God  by  doing  good ; 
Help  the  suffering  in  their  needs. 
He  who  loves  God  as  he  should, 
Makes  his  heart's  love  understood 
By  his  deeds. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[121] 


APRIL   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

DO  you  wonder  how  you  shall  ever  endure  to  the 
end?  Did  you  not  live  yesterday,  and  last  week 
and  last  year?  To-day  will  soon  be  another  yesterday, 
and  the  longest  day  has  but  twenty-four  hours.  The 
trouble  is  you  are  adding  to  your  burden,  instead  of 
lightening  it :  don't  you  know  complainings, and  mur- 
murings  will  wejgh_more  heavily  than,  amilhing  else,? 
Throw  out  a  little  ballast  and  you  will  rise  higher; 
you  are  carrying  too  much  to  make  much  progress 
upward.  Weighted  wings  cannot_SQaxf  Rid  yourself 
of  anxieties  and  complaints,  and  you  will  find  the  jour- 
ney easier.  It  is  only  a  little  while  until  your  pilgrim- 
age shall  be  ended ;  take  heart  and  think  what  lies 
above  and  beyond  you.  Life  is  short,  and  it  will  soon 
be  over,  but  God's^EternityJcnows  no  littlq  while. 

Up,  my  drowsing  eyes ! 

Up,  my  sinking  heart! 
Up  to  Jesus  Christ  arise! 

Claim  your  part 
In  all  the  rapture  of  the  skies. 

Yet  a  little  while, 

Yet  a  little  way, 
Saints  shall  reap  and  rest  and  smile 

All  the  day :  — 
Up!  let's  tmdge  another  mile. 

CHRISTINA  ROSSETTI. 

A  little  longer  still  —  patience,  beloved  : 
A  little  longer  still,  ere  Heaven  unroll 

The  glory,  and  the  brightness,  and  the  wonder, 
Eternal  and  divine,  that  waits  thy  soul. 

HYMNS  OF  THE   AGES. 
[122] 


APRIL  TWENTY-SIXTH. 

AS  the  Alpine  heights  tower  above  the  world  in 
their  grandeur  and  sublimity,  so  the  heights  of 
God's  love  tower  above  us.  We  can  only  reach  them 
by  an  upward  flight,  yet  the  ascent  is  easy  because  He 
makes  it  so.  All  He  requires  is  a  simple,  childlike 
faith  and  trust  in  Him,  and  a  heart  ready  to  love  and 
obey  Him.  Hold  out  your  hand  to  Him,  and  He  will 
uplift  you,  and  you  shall  one  day  stand  with  Him  on 
the  Alpine  heights  of  His  wonderful  love. 

On  Alpine  heights  the  love  of  God  is  shed ; 

He  paints  the  morning  red, 

The  flowerets  white  and  blue, 

And  feeds  them  with  His  dew. 
On  Alpine  heights  a  loving  Father  dwells. 

On  Alpine  heights,  o'er  many  a  fragrant  heath, 

The  loveliest  breezes  breathe ; 

So  free  and  pure  the  air, 

His  breath  seems  floating  there. 
On  Alpine  heights  a  loving  Father  dwells. 

On  Alpine  heights,  in  troops  all  white  as  snow, 

The  sheep  and  wild  goats  go ; 

There  in  the  solitude, 

He  fills  their  hearts  with  food. 
On  Alpine  heights  a  loving  Father  dwells. 

On  Alpine  heights  the  herdsman  tends  his  herd ; 

His  Shepherd  is  the  Lord ; 

For  He  who  feeds  the  sheep 

Will  sure  His  offspring  keep. 
On  Alpine  heights  a  loving  Father  dwells. 

KRUMMACHER. 
["3] 


APRIL   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

NO  [Vis  the  constant  syllable  ticking  from  the  clock 
of  time.  Now  is  the  watchword  of  the  wise. 
Now  is  the  banner  of  the  prudent.  Let  us  keep  this 
little  word  always  in  our  minds,  and  whenever  any- 
thing presents  itself  to  us  in  the  shape  of  work,  whether 
mental  or  physical,  we  should  do  it  with  all  our  might, 
remembering  that  Now  is  the  only  time  for  us  —  that 
.Afea/Jsj)urs  ;  that  7/fowjmay  never  be.  —  ANONYMOUS. 


Time  past,  and  time  to  come,  are  not  — 
Time  present  is  our  only  Jot,  ; 
O  God,Jiencefbrth  our  hearty  incline 
To  seek  no  other  love  than  thine! 

MONTGOMERY. 

The  Present  is  our  tirqg  —  yours  and  mine  ;  the  Past 
is  with  death,  the_Future  isjwith  God,  The  Present  is 
a  jgrincely  gues.t  ;  let  us  give  him  a  royal  welcome,  and 
make  glad  his  stay  ;  if  well  entertained,  he  will  leave, 
us  a  precious  legacy_Jn  his  wjll;  but^if  ignored  and, 
slighted,  he  wJlj  rob  us_of_our^peace,  and  send  the, 
ghpstjjf  Regrets  to  haunt  us  in  aft^r  ypars- 

Time  flows  from  instants,  and  of  these,  each  one 
Should  be  esteem'd,  as  if  it  were  alone  : 
The  shortest  space,  which  we  so  highly  prize 
When  it  is  coming,  and  before  our  eyes, 
Let  it  but  slide  into  th'  eternal  main, 
No  realms,  no  worlds  can  purchase  it  again  : 
Remembrance  only  makes  the  footsteps  last, 
When  winged  time,  which  fix'd  the  prints,  is  past. 

SIR  JOHN  BEAUMONT. 
[124] 


w 


APRIL   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

A  DAY  WITH  THE  WIND! 

IND!  thou  art  lovelike,  everywhere;  o'er  earth, 
O'er  ocean  triumphing,  and  aye  with  clouds, 
That  like  the  ghost  of  ocean's  billows  roll. 

BAILEY. 


Thou  wind! 

Which  art  the  unseen  similitude  of  God 
The  Spirit ;  His  most  meet  and  mightiest  sign! 

BAILEY. 

The  wind  hath  a  language,  I  would  I  could  learn ; 

Sometimes  'tis  soothing,  and  sometimes  'tis  stern  ; 

Sometimes  it  comes  like  a  low,  sweet  song, 

And  all  things  grow  calm,  as  the  sound  floats  along, 

And  the  forest  is  lull'd  by  the  dreamy  strain, 

And  slumber  sinks  down  on  the  wandering  main, 

And  its  crystal  arms  are  folded  in  rest, 

And  the  tall  ship  sleeps  on  its  heaving  breast. 

And  the  billows  leap  up  when  the  summons  they  hear, 
And  the  ship  flies  away,  as  if  winged  with  fear, 

And  when  the  moon  rises,  the  ship  is  no  more, 
Its  joys  and  its  sorrows  are  vanish'd  and  o'er, 
And  the  fierce  storm  that  slew  it  has  faded  away, 
Like  the  dark  dream  that  flies  from  the  light  of  the  day. 

LETITIA   E.    LANDON. 

May  the  winds  of  Heaven  blow  away  all  your  feuds, 
until  they  are  lost  forever ;  and  may  they  sow  the  seed 
of  your  good  influence  all  over  the  world,  until  it  shall 
spring  up  and  blossom  for  eternity! 


APRIL  TWENTY-NINTH. 

is  a  word  of  royal  ton&; 
Friend  is  a  poem  all  alone. 

ANONYMOUS. 

We  can  never  replace  a  friend.  When  a  man  is 
fortunate  enough  to  have  several,  he  finds  that  they 
are  all  different,  no  one  has  a  double  in  friendship. 

—  SCHILLER. 

Friendship  hath  the  skill  and  observation  of  the  best 
physician ;  the  diligence  and  vigilance  of  the  best  nurse  ; 
and  the  tenderness  and  patience  of  the  best  mother.  — 

LORD   CLARENDON. 

Who  knows  the  joys  of  friendship  ? 

The  trust,  security,  and  mutual  tenderness, 

The  double  joys,  where  each  is  glad  for  both? 

Friendship    our    only    wealth,    our   last    retreat   and 

strength, 
Secure  against  ill-fortune  and  the  world. 

NICHOLAS  ROWE. 

Lay  this  into  your  breast : 
Old  friends,  like  old  swords,  still  are  truest  best. 

JOHN  WEBSTER. 

It  is  the  friendship  that  j|o ws  ft om  jhe  heart  which 
is  the  only  true  friendship ;  no  other  will  stand  the  test 
of  sorrow  and  adversity,  and  remain  steadfast.  That 
which  is  assumed  for  the  sake  of  policy  is  short-lived ; 
it  smiles  upon  you  and  wears  a  semblance  of  sincerity, 
but  gives  you  the  cold  shoulder  if  you  fail  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  its  hopes  and  wishes.  Keep  your  heart 
warm,  if  you  would  give  out  a  warm. friendship. 

fl26] 


APRIL   THIRTIETH. 

A  DAY  OF  SWEET  REMEMBRANCE! 

SHE  sent  him  rosemary,  to  the  intent  that  he  should 
hold  her  in  remembrance.  —  DRAYTON. 

Ah  yes,  there  is  a  buried  April  somewhere  in  your 
heart  and  mine  :  a  time  half  sun,  half  tears,  half  hopes, 
half  fears,  an  April  of  our  vanished  years !  Don't  you 
remember  it  ?  Don't  you  like  to  go  off  alone  somewhere 
and  think  of  it,  and  smile  over  it,  and  —  yes,  even  grieve 
over  it?  We  take  a  sorrowful  delight,  sometimes,  in 
recalling  sad  things,  and  when  we  have  lived  them 
over,  and  come  back  once  more  to  the  reality  of  the 
present,  we  find  ourselves  smiling  through  our  tears  — 
the  dead  April  rising  again  in  us  with  a  new  resurrec- 
tion. 

When  shall  we  come  to  that  delightful  day, 
When  each  can  say  to  each, "  Dost  thou  remember  f  " 

Let_us_fill  urns  with  rpsgjgaves  in  our  May, 
And  hive  thejthrifty^ sweetness  for  December! 

BULWER. 

I  cannot  but  remember  such  things  were 
That  were  most  precious  to  me. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Many  kijidjyjieedsjbe  yj)yr  rosemary  of  remembran ce. 
in  the  heart-gard_ens^  of  your  friends! 

Sweet  Memory,  wafted  by  the  gentle  gale, 
Oft  up  the  stream  of  time  I  turn  my  sail, 
To  view  the  fairy  haunts  of  long-lost  hours, 
Blest  with  far  greener  shades,  far  lovelier  flowers. 

SAMUEL   ROGERS. 
[127] 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF   MAY 


MAY   FIRST. 

AH,  there  is  no  one  like  her  —  bonny  May,  the  rosy, 
dimpled  darling  of  the  year !  How  light  is  her 
step,  how  silvery  her  laugh,  and  how  blithe  her  heart ! 
She  hath  power  to  dispel  sadness,  to  banish  gloom,  and 
to  drive  away  care.  Her  young  hands  are  full  of  blos- 
soms, with  which  to  beautify  the  earth.  God  must 
have  put  a  song  in  her  lips,  and  a  light  in  her  eye  for 
the  joy  of  all  mankind.  Oh,  that  you  may  be  akin  to 
her  in  sunshine  and  gladness,  scattering  sweetness 
wherever  you  go,  and  making  your  influence  a  per- 
petual May ! 

Now  the  bright  morning-star,  day's  harbinger, 
Comes  dancing  from  the  east,  and  leads  with  her 
The  flowery  May,  who  from  her  green  lap  throws 
The  yellow  cowslip  and  the  pale  primrose.   * 

MILTON. 

Little  brings  the  May  breeze 

Beside  pure  scent  of  flowers, 
While  all  things  wax  and  nothing  wanes 

In  lengthening  daylight  hours. 
Across  the  hyacinth  beds 

The  wind  lags  warm  and  sweet, 
Across  the  hawthorn  tops, 

Across  the  blades  of  wheat. 

CHRISTINA  ROSSETTI. 

[128] 


THOMAS   CARLTLE 

1795-1881 


MAY   SECOND. 

O  SWEET   English  primroses !    May  you  be  like 
them,  carrying  gladness  in  your  face,  and  God's 
vernal  Springtime  in  your  heart.     Like  them,  may  you 
grow  and  thrive  in  the  light  of  God. 

My  soul  lies  out  like  a  basking  hound  — 

A  hound  that  dreams  and  dozes ; 

Along  my  life  my  length  I  lay, 

I  fill  to-morrow  and  yesterday, 

I  am  warm  with  the  suns  that  have  long  since  set, 

I  am  warm  with  the  summers  that  are  not  yet, 

And  like  one  who  dreams  and  dozes, 

Softly  afloat  on  a  sunny  sea, 

Two  worlds  are  whispering  over  me, 

And  there  blows  a  wind  of  roses 

From  the  backward  shore  to  the  shore  before, 

From  the  shore  before  to  the  backward  shore, 

And  like  two  clouds  that  meet  and  pour 

Each  through  each,  till  core  in  core 

A  single  self  reposes, 

The  nevermore  with  the  evermore 

Above  me  mingles  and  closes  ; 

As  my  soul  lies  out  like  the  basking  hound, 

And  wherever  it  lies  seems  happy  ground ; 

And  when,  awakened  by  some  sweet  sound, 

A  dreamy  eye  uncloses, 

I  see  a  blooming  world  around, 

And  I  lie  amid  primroses,  — 

Years  of  sweet  primroses, 

Springs  of  fresh  primroses, 

Springs  to  be,  and  springs  for  me, 

Of  distant,  dim  primroses. 

SIDNEY  DOBELL. 
[129] 


MAY  THIRD. 

T    ET  your  heart  beat  in  unison  with  God's,  and  He 
-» — '  will  stand  revealed  in  His  marvellous  works. 

My  God,  what  is  a  heart, 

That  Thou  should'st  it  so  eye  and  woo, 

Pouring  upon  it  all  Thy  art, 

As  if  Thou  had'st  nothing  else  to  do  ? 

Indeed,  man's  whole  estate 

Amounts  —  and  richly  —  to  serve  Thee ; 

He  did  not  Heaven  and  earth  create, 

Yet  studies  them,  not  Him  by  whom  they  be. 

Teach  me  Thy  love  to  know ; 
That  this  new  light  which  now  I  see 
May  both  the  work  and  Workman  show ; 
Then  by  a  sunbeam  I  will  climb  to  Thee. 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 

The  Psalms  of  David  show  forth  God's  continual 
goodness  and  love,  as  manifested  in  His  works.  Oh, 
that  our  hearts  may  unite  in  this  glad  melody  and  sing 
with  thanksgiving,  "  O  Lord,  how  manifold  are  Thy 
works  !  in  wisdom  hast  Thou  made  them  all :  the  earth 
is  full  of  Thy  riches." 

The  spacious  firmament  on  high  ; 

With  all  the  blue  ethereal  sky, 
And  spangled  heavens,  a  shining  frame, 

Their  great  Original  proclaim  ; 
The  unwearied  sun,  from  day  to  day, 

Does  his  Creator's  power  display, 
And  publishes  to  every  land 

The  work  of  an  Almighty  hand. 

ADDISON. 


MAY   FOURTH. 

BEST  things  are  obtainable,  but  they  do  not  come  to 
us  of  themselves.  Ambition,  energy,  and  perse- 
verance are  the  levers  that  remove  many  obstacles  in 
our  path,  and  leave  the  way  clear  to  the  attainment  of 
our  end.  Ambition  beckons,  energy  pushes,  and  per- 
severance keeps  us  continually  toiling  and  delving,  so 
that,  if  we  unite  the  three,  we  cannot  help  but  succeed. 
Perseverance  will  do  more  for  us  than  mere  talent. 
Science  owes  her  wonderful  progress  to  perseverance  ; 
art  and  invention  are  indebted  to  her  for  their  marvel- 
lous discoveries  ;  and,  through  her  mighty  influence, 
the  world  is  growing  wiser  every  day. 

Perseverance  is  a  Roman  virtue, 
That  wins  each  god-like  act,  and  plucks  success 
E'en  from  the  spear-proof  crest  of  rugged  danger. 

HA YARD. 

Attempt  an  end,  and  never  stand  to  doubt ; 
Nothing's  so  hard,  but  search  will  find  it  out. 

HERRICK. 

He  who  flies, 

In  war  or  peace,  who  his  great  purpose  yields, 
He  is  the  only  villain  in  this  world : 
But  he  who  labours  firm  and  gains  his  point, 
Be  what  it  will,  which  crowns  him  with  success, 
He  is  the  son  of  fortune  and  of  fame. 

THOMSON. 

Perseverance,  dear  my  lord, 
Keeps  honour  bright.     To  have  none,  is  to  hang 
Quite  out  of  fashion 

SHAKESPEARE. 


MAY   FIFTH. 

GOD  knows  what  is  best  for  you.  Why  should  you 
doubt  Him?  You  think  you  can  choose  for  your- 
self, but  the  choice  is  always  a  poor  one,  if  made  in  op- 
position to  His  will.  If  things  look  unusually  dark  and 
gloomy  to-day,  there  is  a  reason  for  it.  Why  should 
they  look  gloomier  and  darker  to-day  than  yesterday? 
God  is  the  same,  the  world  is  the  same,  and  you  — 
are  you  the  same,  or  are  you  tormented  with  doubts 
and  fears,  and  are  you  shrinking  from  the  future,  be- 
cause of  your  poor,  weak  faith?  Let  God  carry  your 
burdens  ;  take  as  your  text  for  to-day, 

NOT  WHAT   I   WILL  !    BUT  WHAT   THOU   WILT. 

Send  what  thou  wilt :  or  beating  shower, 

Soft  dew  or  brilliant  sun  ; 
Alike  in  still  or  stormy  hour, 

My  Lord,  Thy  will  be  done. 

FRANCES   R.    HAVERGAL. 

I  have  no  cares,  O  blessed  Will ! 

For  all  my  cares  are  Thine  ! 
I  live  in  triumph,  Lord,  for  Thou 

Hast  made  Thy  triumphs  mine. 

He  always  wins  who  sides  with  God, 

To  him  no  chance  is  lost ; 
God's  will  is  sweeter  to  him,  when 

It  triumphs  at  his  cost. 

Ill  that  He  blesses  is  our  good, 

And  unblessed  good  is  ill ; 
And  all  is  right  that  seems  most  wrong, 

If  it  be  His  sweet  will. 

F.    W.    FABER. 

[132] 


MAY   SIXTH. 

NOTHING  can  live  well  without  proper  nourish- 
ment. A  half-starved  body  soon  loses  its  health 
and  vigor  ;  muscle,  blood,  and  nerves  need  wholesome 
food  if  they  would  perfectly  perform  their  part  of  God's 
great  plan.  If  we  refuse  to  eat,  we  are  neglecting  our 
bodies,  and  are  therefore  dishonoring  our  Creator. 
The  mind  needs  quickening  and  enlightening,  lest  it 
should  lie  dormant,  and  lose  the  strength  of  its  facul- 
ties :  without  thought  and  study  the  intellect  becomes 
starved  —  it  has  nothing  to  feed  upon.  The  soul,  too, 
the  spiritual  part  of  our  being,  must  likewise  be  nour- 
ished, or  it  also  shrinks  and  shrivels  into  a  dull,  lifeless 
thing,  and  fails  to  fulfil  the  mission  for  which  God  in- 
tended it.  Every  part  of  our  being  should  be  indus- 
trious ;  the  body,  if  well  fed,  will  give  strength  to  the 
intellect,  and  a  bright,  active  mind  might  to  give  us 
broader  and  deeper  spiritual  growth.  If  the  mind  is 
alive  to  earth's  beauty,  the  soul  should  be  alive  to 
God's  goodness.  Let  us  be  careful  and  watchful  of 
all  three  of  these  treasures,  —  body,  mind,  and  soul,  — 
that  each  may  be  active  and  industrious,  and  able  to 
grow  and  thrive.  Riches  of  health,  riches  of  intellect, 
and  riches  of  soul  are  all  the  result  of  constant  dili- 
gence. 

Industry  .  .  . 

To  meditate,  to  plan,  resolve,  perform, 
Which  in  itself  is  good  —  as  surely  brings 
Reward  of  good,  no  matter  what  be  done. 

POLLOCK. 

If  little  labour,  little  are  our  gains  : 
Man's  fortunes  are  according  to  his  pains. 

HERRICK. 

[133] 


MAY   SEVENTH. 

'T'HERE  is  no  true  rest  outside  of  Christ.  It  is 
A  sweet  to  go  apart  with  Him  for  a  little  season  of 
rest,  during  the  busy  hours  of  the  day.  His  Presence 
strengthens  and  refreshes  us,  and  His  sweet  peace  calms 
our  troubled  spirits,  and  fills  us  with  inward  repose. 

Silken  rest, 
Tie  all  my  cares  up. 

BEAUMONT  AND   FLETCHER. 

The  camel,  at  the  close  of  day, 

Kneels  down  upon  the  sandy  plain, 
To  have  his  burden  lifted  off, 
And  rest  to  gain. 

My  soul,  thou,  too,  shouldst  to  thy  knees 

When  daylight  draweth  to  a  close, 
And  let  thy  Master  lift  the  load, 
And  grant  repose. 

Else  how  couldst  thou  to-morrow  meet, 

With  all  to-morrow's  work  to  do, 
If  thou  thy  burden  all  the  night 
Dost  carry  through? 

The  camel  kneels  at  break  of  day 

To  have  his  guide  replace  his  load, 
Then  rises  up  anew  to  take 
The  desert  road. 

So  thou  shouldst  kneel  at  morning's  dawn, 

That  God  may  give  thee  daily  care. 
Assured  that  He  no  load  too  great 
Will  make  thee  bear. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[134] 


MAY   EIGHTH. 

READING  maketh  a  full  man,  conference  a  ready 
man,  and  writing  an  exact  man.  .  .  .     Histories 
make  men  wise ;  poets,  witty ;  the  mathematics,  sub- 
tle ;  natural  philosophy,  deep  ;  moral,  grave  ;  logic  and 
rhetoric,  able  to  contend.  —  BACON. 

Read,  mark,  learn,  and  inwardly  digest.  —  COLLECT 

FOR   THE   SECOND   SUNDAY   IN  ADVENT. 

Books,  we  know, 

Are  a  substantial  world,  both  pure  and  good ; 
Round  these,  with  tendrils  strong  as  flesh  and  blood, 
Our  pastime  and  our  happiness  will  grow. 

WORDSWORTH. 

Books  are  men  of  higher  stature, 

And  the  only  man  who  speaks  aloud  for  future  time  to 
hear. 

E.  B.  BROWNING. 

As  good  almost  kill  a  man  as  kill  a  good  book ;  who 
kills  a  man  kills  a  reasonable  creature,  God's  image ; 
but  he  who  destroys  a  good  book  kills  reason  itself.  — 
MILTON. 

Read  the  Bible,  the  precious  "  Book  of  books,"  whose 
Great  Author  is  the  Divine  Poet  of  Heaven  and  earth. 
He  is  the  Historian  of  every  age  of  man  ;  the  Astrono- 
mer of  all  created  suns,  moons,  and  stars  ;  the  Philoso- 
pher of  deepest  thought  and  reason  ;  the  most  eminent 
Scientist,  the  best  Mathematician,  and  the  truest  Theo- 
logian, —  in  that  He  alone  is  the  God  from  whence 
Theology  had  its  rise ;  His  Book  is  our  safest  guide, 
and  our  sweetest  comfort. 


MAY   NINTH. 

WITH  God  there  is  no  night,  and  they  that  walk 
with  Him  are  never  in  darkness.  He  is  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness,  and  in  His  presence  is  always 
light.  Is  your  life  overshadowed?  If  poverty,  sick- 
ness, trouble,  disgrace,  or  sorrow  hang  darkly  above  you, 
let  in  the  Light.  It  will  warm  and  brighten  and  cheer 
you.  God's  glorious  Light  can  disperse  the  gloom,  and 
scatter  the  clouds  in  your  sky.  He  comforts  in  sorrow, 
soothes  in  distress,  and  sweetens  the  bitter  draught  in 
every  cup.  Oh,  may  the  Light  of  God  illumine  your 
being,  and  be  the  Day-star  to  guide  you  Home  at  last ! 

Shine,  my  only  Day-star,  shine : 
So  mine  eyes  shall  wake  by  Thine ; 
So  the  dreams  I  grope  in  now 
To  clear  visions  all  shall  grow ; 
So  my  day  shall  measured  be 
By  Thy  Grace's  clarity ; 
So  shall  I  discern  the  Path 
Thy  sweet  Law  prescribed  hath  ; 
For  Thine  ways  cannot  be  shown 
By  any  light  but  Thine  own. 

BEAUMONT. 

A  blind  man,  being  led  one  day 
Where  fragrant  roses  blossomed  gay, 
Said  to  his  guide  :  "  Here  roses  bloom ; 
I  know  them  by  their  sweet  perfume." 
Oh !  when  blind  souls  around  us  go, 
Led  by  the  eyes  that  watch  us  so, 
Blessed  the  Christian  life  that  throws 
The  sweet  perfume  of  Sharon's  rose. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[136] 


MAY   TENTH. 

THE  only  worthy  end  of  all  learning,  of  all  science, 
of  all  life,  in  fact,  is  that  human  beings  should  love 
one  another  better.     Culture  merely  for  culture's  sake 
can   never  be   anything   but  a   sapless  root,  capable 
of  producing,  at  best,  a  shrivelled  branch.  —  GEORGE 

ELIOT. 

Learn  that  to  love  is  the  one  way  to  know 
pr  God  or  Man  ;  it  is  not  love  received 
That  maketh  man  to  know  the  inner  life 
Of  them  that  love  him ;  his  own  love  bestowed 
Shall  do  it._~" 

JEAN   INGELOW. 

There  is  a  power  to  bless 
In  hillside  loneliness, 

In  tarns  and  dreary  places  ; 
A  virtue  in  the  brook, 
A  freshness  in  the  look 

Of  mountain's  joyless  faces. 

And  I  would  have  my  heart 
From  littleness  apart, 

A  love-anointed  thing ; 
Be  set  above  my  kind, 
In  my  unfettered  mind 

A  veritable  king. 

F.  W.  FABER. 

A  simple  tolerance  is  not  enough :  our  hearts  must 
be  bound  by  the  cords  of  sympathy  and  love.  We 
must  share  each  other's  burdens,  and  they  will  be 
lighter ;  we  must  bask  in  each  other's  sunshine,  and  it 
will  be  brighter. 


MAY   ELEVENTH. 

OH,  the  mystery  of  to-morrow  ! 
Ambitious  man  is  ever  looking  forward  with 
eager  curiosity  to  to-morrow.  He  dreams,  and  plans, 
and  hopes  for  it,  and  is  often  bitterly  disappointed 
when  it  comes.  God  has  veiled  the  face  of  the  Future, 
so  that  we  may  not  know  what  is  in  store  for  us.  Is 
not  this  kind  ?  How  miserable  we  would  be  if  we  knew 
what  tears  our  eyes  would  shed.  It  is  well  also  that 
we  do  not  know  of  all  the  brightness  to  come.  Did 
you  ever  look  through  the  window  out  into  the  misti- 
ness and  murkiness  of  a  rainy  day,  when,  suddenly, 
the  clouds  were  rifted,  and  like  a  smile  from  Heaven 
the  sunlight  came  pouring  down  upon  the  earth  in  a 
flood  of  gold  ?  Ah,  what  a  sweet  unexpected  joy  !  Had 
you  known  of  its  coming,  you  might  have  fretted  and 
worried  that  it  did  not  come  sooner,  and  been  wearied 
with  long  waiting.  So  it  is  with  the  future ;  our  to- 
morrows will  open  their  windows  to  us,  and  God's 
folded  sunshine  will  stream  into  our  hearts,  while  we, 
perchance,  stand  doubting  beneath  a  dismal  sky. 

Heaven  from  all  creatures  hides  the  book  of  fate, 
All  but  the  page  prescribed,  their  present  state. 

O  blindness  to  the  future !  kindly  given, 

That  each  may  fill  the  circle  mark'd  by  Heaven ; 

Who  sees  with  equal  eye,  as  God  of  all, 

A  hero  perish,  or  a  sparrow  fall, 

Atoms  or  systems  into  ruin  hurl'd, 

And  now  a  bubble  burst,  and  now  a  world. 

POPE. 

Live  so  that  your  yesterdays  may  be  blessings,  your 
to-days,  opportunities,  and  your  to-morrows,  rewards. 
[138] 


MAY  TWELFTH. 

GOD'S  mercy,  how  boundless  it  is !  It  is  like  a 
great  sea  without  a  shore,  whereon  we  are  sailing, 
safe  from  danger  and  alarm.  How  He  holds  us  ;  how 
He  guides  us !  Oh,  let  us  trust  Him  completely,  and 
sail  on  in  calm  assurance,  for  on  His  sea  of  Mercy, 
when  life  and  time  are  ended,  we  shall  be  borne, — 
cast  anchor,  and  reach  Home  at  last. 

Man  may  dismiss  compassion  from  his  heart, 
But  God  will  never. 

COWPER. 

There's  a  wideness  in  God's  mercy, 

Like  the  wideness  of  the  sea ; 
There's  a  kindness  in  His  justice 

Which  is  more  than  liberty. 

For  the  love  of  God  is  broader 
Than  the  measure  of  man's  mind ; 

And  the  heart  of  the  Eternal 
Is  most  wonderfully  kind. 

F.   W.   FABER. 

O'er  friendless  grief  Compassion  shall  awake, 
And  smile  on  innocence,  for  Mercy's  sake ! 

CAMPBELL. 

Oh,  think  !  think  upward  on  the  thrones  above  : 
Disdain  not  mercy,  since  they  mercy  love  ; 
If  mercy  were  not  mingled  with  their  pow'r, 
This  wretched  world  could  not  subsist  an  hour. 

DAVENANT. 

But  mercy  first  and  last  shall  brightest  shine. 

MILTON. 

[i39] 


MAY  THIRTEENTH. 

THIS  is  such  a  beautiful  time  of  the  year  to  say  and 
do  beautiful  things.  With  God's  fresh,  sweet 
May-time  adorning  the  earth,  and  carrying  into  our 
hearts  a  sense  of  His  goodness  and  love,  you  surely 
cannot  harbor  an  evil  thought  towards  any  one.  You 
should  be  ready  to  breathe  out  kind  and  gentle 
thoughts  to  the  whole  world.  No  matter  how  fast  the 
years  are  heaping  on  your  head,  so  that  they  are  not 
gathering  on  your  heart.  Do  not  grow  old  in  false 
judgments,  and  unkind  words  and  deeds.  They 
shrivel  the  heart  until  it  becomes  as  dry  and  wrinkled 
as  a  sour  apple  —  eaten  up  by  its  own  acidity.  Do 
not  grow  old  in  false  judgments  and  deeds.  Let  the 
May-time  start  within  you  a  new  growth  of  kindly 
words  and  deeds,  and  when  the  Autumn  days  come 
you  will  not  be  able  to  gather  half  of  the  abundant 
harvest  they  will  yield. 

Before  the  birth  of  love,  many  fearful  things  took 
place  through  the  empire  of  necessity ;  but  when  this 
god  was  born,  all  things  arose  to  man.  —  SOCRATES. 

Man  is  dear  to  man ;  the  poorest  poor 

Long  for  some  moments  in  a  dreary  life, 

When  they  can  know  and  feel  that  they  have  been 

Themselves  the  fathers  and  the  dealers-out 

Of  some  small  blessings  ;  have  been  such 

As  needed  kindness,  for  the  single  cause, 

That  we  have  all  of  us  one  human  heart. 

WORDSWORTH. 

Gently  to  hear,  kindly  to  judge. 

SHAKESPEARE. 
[I4o] 


MAY    FOURTEENTH. 

LEARN  to  be  as  the  angel,  who  could  descend 
among  the  miseries  of  Bethesda  without  losing 
his  heavenly  purity  or  his  perfect  happiness.  Gain 
healing  from  troubled  waters.  Make  up  your  mind  to 
the  prospect  of  sustaining  a  certain  measure  of  pain 
and  trouble  in  your  passage  through  life.  By  the 
blessing  of  God  this  will  prepare  you  for  it.  —  j.  H. 

NEWMAN. 

Is  it  raining,  little  flower? 

Be  glad  of  rain  ! 
Too  much  sun  would  wither  thee ; 

'Twill  shine  again. 
The  sky  is  very  black,  'tis  true ; 
But  just  behind  it  shines  the  blue. 

Art  thou  weary,  tender  heart  ? 

Be  glad  of  pain  ! 
In  sorrow  sweetest  things  will  grow, 

As  flowers  in  rain. 

God  watches  ;  and  thou  wilt  have  sun, 
When  clouds  their  perfect  work  have  done. 

Rejoice,  O  grieving  heart ! 

The  hours  fly  fast ; 
With  each  some  sorrow  dies, 
With  each  some  shadow  flies, 

Until  at  last 

The  red  dawn  in  the  east 
Bids  weary  night  depart, 

And  pain  is  past. 
Rejoice,  then,  grieving  heart, 

The  hours  fly  fast  ! 

ADELAIDE   A.  PROCTER. 
[141] 


MAY   FIFTEENTH. 

A  DAY  AMONG  THE  TREES. 

I  HEARD  a  Seer  cry,  — "The  wilderness, 
The  solitary  place, 
Shall  yet  be  glad  for  Him,  and  He  shall  bless 

The  forests ;  they  shall  drop  their  precious  gum, 
And  shed  for  Him  their  balm ;  and  He  shall  yield 
The  grandeur  of  His  speech  to  charm  the  field." 

JEAN   INGELOW. 

Trees  are  the  exquisite  workmanship  of  God.  The 
seed,  the  root,  the  sap,  the  vein,  the  leaf,  the  bough, 
the  branch,  —  all  make  a  magnificent  whole.  Yet  how 
soon  a  tree  becomes  dead  and  useless,  unless  there  is 
life  in  the  heart.  God  remembers  this ;  He  feeds  the 
roots  that  lie  in  darkness  hidden  from  the  eye  of  man. 
And  now,  behold,  the  May  is  here,  and  overhead  the 
leaves  are  spread,  and  each  with  each  in  gladness  joins, 
to  make  a  canopy  of  green  to  shelter  man,  of  all  God's 
creatures,  dearest,  best.  O  monarch  trees  !  O  tossing 
leaves  !  may  we  have  power,  like  you,  to  shelter  some 
one  weary  grown,  who  longs  to  hide  from  life's  oppres- 
sive heat,  or  fierce,  descending  storms  ! 

The  Laurel,  meed  of  mighty  conquerors, 
And  poets  sage,  the  Fir  that  weepeth  still, 
The  Yew,  obedient  to  the  bender's  will, 
The  Birch  for  shafts,  the  Sallow  for  the  mill, 
The  Myrrh  sweet  bleeding  in  the  bitter  wound, 
The  warlike  Beech,  the  Ash  for  nothing  ill, 
The  sailing  Pine,  the  Cedar  proud  and  tall, 
The  builder  Oak,  sole  king  of  forests  all. 

EDMUND   SPENSER. 
[142] 


MAY   SIXTEENTH. 

T7VERY  kindness  done  to  others  in  our  daily  walk, 
•t-'  every  attempt  to  make  others  happy,  every  preju- 
dice overcome,  every  truth  more  clearly  perceived,  every 
difficulty  subdued,  every  sin  left  behind,  every  tempta- 
tion trampled  under  foot,  every  step  forward  in  the 
cause  of  what  is  good,  is  a  step  nearer  the  cause  of 
Christ,  through  which  only  death  can  really  be  a  gain 

to  US.  —  DEAN   STANLEY. 

If  thou  art  blest, 

Then  let  the  sunshine  of  thy  gladness  rest 

On  the  dark  edges  of  each  cloud  that  lies 

Black  in  thy  brother's  skies. 

If  thou  art  sad, 

Still  be  thou  in  thy  brother's  gladness  glad. 

ANONYMOUS. 

The  kindly  plans  devised  for  other's  good, 
So  seldom  guessed,  so  little  understood. 
The  quiet,  steadfast  love  that  strove  to  win 
Some  weary  wanderer  from  the  ways  of  sin  — 
These  are  not  lost. 

ANONYMOUS. 

All  sweet,  pure  thoughts  that  bloom  into  deeds,  and 
send  forth  a  fragrance  into  the  hearts  of  others,  are 
never  lost.  You  shall  find  them  blooming  in  the  gar- 
den of  Eternity. 

The  greatest  pleasure  I  know  is  to  do  a  good  action 
by  stealth,  and  to  have  it  found  out  by  accident.  — 

CHARLES   LAMB. 

[143] 


MAY   SEVENTEENTH. 

REAL  friendship   is  of  slow  growth.     It   seldom 
arises  at  first  sight.     Nothing  but  our  vanity  will 
make  us  think  so.     It  never  thrives  unless  engrafted 
upon  a  stock  of  known  and  reciprocal  merit.  —  CHES- 
TERFIELD. 

There  is  a  vast  difference  between  humanity  and 
friendship.  If  you  are  ill  or  in  trouble  people  will  aid 
and  sympathize  with  you,  who  would  perhaps  utterly 
ignore  you  in  health  and  in  the  midst  of  your  daily 
activities.  Don't  mistake  this  for  friendship  :  it  is  only 
common  humanity  reaching  out  to  you  in  a  time  of 
need.  A  man  may  sometimes  lend  a  helping  hand, 
too,  to  satisfy  his  conscience ;  he  may  do  a  kind  act 
and  get  the  credit  of  it,  and  yet  have  no  warm  or  gen- 
erous impulses —  this  is  not  friendship.  True  friend- 
ship hath  its  rise  in  the  heart ;  it  is  fed  from  a  hidden 
source,  and  its  springs  never  run  dry. 

Every  one  that  natters  thee 
Is  no  friend  in  misery. 
Words  are  easy,  like  the  wind ; 
Faithful  friends  are  hard  to  find. 

He  that  is  thy  friend  indeed, 
He  will  keep  thee  in  thy  need ; 
If  thou  sorrow,  he  will  weep, 
If  thou  wake,  he  cannot  sleep. 
Thus  of  every  grief  in  heart, 
He  with  thee  doth  bear  a  part. 
These  are  certain  signs  to  know 
Faithful  friend  from  flattering  foe. 

RICHARD   BARNFIELD. 
[144] 


MAY   EIGHTEENTH. 

HHHERE'S  not  a  cheaper  thing  on  earth, 
J-    Nor  yet  one  half  so  dear ; 
'Tis  worth  more  than  distinguish'd  birth, 
Or  thousands  gain'd  a  year : 


It  maketh  poverty  content, 

To  sorrow  whispers  peace  ; 
It  is  a  gift  from  Heaven  sent 

For  mortals  to  increase. 
It  meets  you  with  a  smile  at  morn, 

It  lulls  you  to  repose ; 
A  flower  for  peer  and  peasant  born, 

An  everlasting  rose. 

As  smiles  the  rainbow  through  the  cloud 

When  threat'ning  storm  begins  — 
As  music  'mid  the  tempest  loud, 

That  still  its  sweet  way  wins. 
As  springs  an  arch  across  the  tide, 

Where  waves  conflicting  foam, 
So  comes  this  seraph  to  our  side, 

This  angel  of  our  home. 

What  may  this  wondrous  spirit  be, 

With  power  unheard  before  — 
This  charm,  this  bright  divinity? 

Good  temper !  —  nothing  more! 
Good  temper !  —  'tis  the  choicest  gift 

That  woman  homeward  brings  ; 
And  can  the  poorest  peasant  lift 

To  bliss  unknown  to  kings. 

CHARLES  SWAIN. 
[I4S] 


MAY   NINETEENTH. 

MAKE  yourselves  nests  of  pleasant  thoughts. 
None  of  us  yet  know,  for  none  of  us  have  been 
taught  in  early  youth,  what  fairy  palaces  we  may  build 
of  beautiful  thoughts  —  proof  against  all  adversity. 
Bright  fancies,  satisfied  memories,  noble  histories, 
faithful  sayings,  treasure-houses  of  precious  and  rest- 
ful thoughts,  which  care  cannot  disturb,  nor  pain  make 
gloomy,  nor  poverty  take  away  from  us,  —  houses 
built  without  hands,  for  our  souls  to  live  in.  —  RUSKIN. 

I  pray  you  hear  my  song  of  a  nest, 
For  it  is  not  long. 

Once,  awhile  ago,  I  peered 
In  the  nest  where  Spring  was  reared. 
There,  she  quivering  her  fair  wings, 
Flattered  March  with  chirrupings  ; 
And  they  fed  her ;  nights  and  days, 
Fed  her  mouth  with  much  sweet  food, 
And  her  heart  with  love  and  praise, 
Till  the  wild  thing  rose  and  flew 
Over  woods  and  water-springs, 
Shaking  off  the  morning  dew 
In  a  rainbow  from  her  wings. 

JEAN   INGELOW. 

In  the  home-nests  of  our  souls  let  us,  like  the  March, 
feed  upon  the  food  of  praise  from  out  our  Father's 
hand.  Then  shall  sweet  messengers  of  gladness  take 
wing  therefrom,  and  fly  into  the  waiting  world  about 
us,  to  help  make  vocal  life's  blossoming  May.  Let  us 
feed  upon  God's  goodness,  and  drink  in  His  sunshine 
and  dews  of  grace,  then  shall  we  make  happy  nests. 
[146] 


MAY   TWENTIETH. 

HE  is  waiting,  waiting,  waiting, 
He  is  waiting  through  the  night ; 
He  has  looked  with  wondrous  patience 

For  the  hour  of  dawning  light, 
When  the  oft-mistaken  spirit 

Shall  observe  Him  at  the  door, 
And  shall  cry,  Come  in,  my  Saviour, 
Come,  and  leave  me  nevermore. 


Did  you  hear  Him  gently  knocking 

When  you  played  among  the  flowers? 

Did  you  notice  how  He  waited 

In  the  hush  of  evening  hours? 

He  is  waiting,  waiting,  waiting, 

You  have  let  all  others  in. 
Some  odd  guests  are  in  your  temple, 

Sad  with  sorrow,  dark  with  sin. 
There  is  only  One  can  bless  you 

In  your  times  of  grief  and  doubt, 
There  is  only  One  can  save  you  — 

But  you  strangely  keep  Him  out! 

He  is  waiting,  waiting,  waiting ; 

Surely  He  may  enter  now : 
Haste  to  throw  your  heart's  door  open, 

And  before  the  Master  bow. 
Bid  Him  come,  no  more  to  leave  you 

Till  you  dwell  with  Him  above. 
Oh,  receive  the  waiting  Saviour, 

And  return  Him  love  for  love! 

MARIANNE  FARNINGHAM. 


MAY  TWENTY-FIRST. 

GOOD  common-sense  will  take  a  man  through  the 
world  a  great  deal  easier  than  talent,  genius,  or 
wealth.  Talented  people  are  often  without  tact ;  the 
true  genius  is  generally  self-absorbed  and  absent- 
minded,  and  the  man  of  wealth  cannot  always  count 
on  his  pocketbook  to  carry  him  through.  There  are 
things  that  mere  money  cannot  buy ;  a  man  with  more 
in  his  pocket  than  in  his  head  is  to  be  pitied,  for  when 
his  riches  take  flight  he  is  helpless  indeed,  unless  he  has 
a  good  round  measure  of  common-sense.  Common- 
sense  is  equal  to  any  emergency ;  it  is  wide  awake  and 
swings  in  a  steady  balance.  The  man  who  possesses 
a  goodly  share  of  it,  though  he  may  be  an  Englishman 
or  an  American,  will  find  himself  rich  in  his  own  right. 
His  judgment  is  strong  and  impartial,  his  counsel  wise, 
and  his  character  is  usually  as  straight  as  a  plumb-line. 
If  he  is  modest,  and  not  inclined  to  boast  of  his  gift 
(for  it  is  a  gift) ,  he  is  indeed  blest ;  William  Penn  once 
said,  "  Sense  shines  with  a  double  lustre  when  it  is  set 
in  humility." 

Sense  is  our  helmet,  wit  is  but  the  plume ; 
The  plume  exposes,  'tis  our  helmet  saves. 
Sense  is  the  diamond,  weighty,  solid,  sound  ; 
When  cut  by  wit,  it  casts  a  brighter  beam ; 
Yet,  wit  apart,  it  is  a  diamond  still. 

YOUNG. 

Something  there  is  more  needful  than  expense, 
And  something  previous  e'en  to  taste  —  'tis  sense ; 
Good  sense  which  only  is  the  gift  of  Heaven, 
And  though  no  science,  fairly  worth  the  seven. 

POPE. 

[148] 


H 


MAY   TWENTY-SECOND. 

E  is  the  richest  who  is  content  with  the  least,  for 
content  is  the  wealth  of  nature.  —  SOCRATES. 

Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage, 
Minds  innocent  and  quiet,  take 

That  for  a  heritage. 

LOVELACE. 


There  is  a  jewel  which  no  Indian  mine  can  buy, 
No  chemic  art  can  counterfeit ; 
It  makes  men  rich  in  greatest  poverty, 
Makes  water  wine,  turns  wooden  cups  to  gold, 
The  homely  music  to  sweet  music's  strain ; 
Seldom  it  comes  —  to  few  from  Heaven  sent  — 
That  much  in  little  —  all  in  naught  —  content. 

WILBYE. 

'Tis  better  to  be  lowly  born, 
And  range  with  humbler  lives  in  content, 
Than  to  be  perk'd  up  in  a  glittering  grief, 
And  wear  a  golden  sorrow. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Such  is  the  force  of  each  created  thing, 

That  it  no  soiled  happiness  can  bring, 

Which  to  our  minds  may  give  contentment  sound  ; 

For,  like  as  Noah's  dove  no  succour  found, 

Till  she  returned  to  him  that  sent  her  out, 

Just  so  the  soul  in  vain  may  seek  about 

For  rest  or  satisfaction  anywhere, 

Save  in  His  presence  who  hath  sent  her  here. 

ANNE  COLLINS. 
tM9] 


MAY   TWENTY-THIRD. 

GOD   is   our   Light ;    let   us   therefore    continually 
reach  up  to  Him  for  sunshine.     There  is  no  mine 
so  far  underground,  no  prison-cell  so  dark,  no  dwell- 
ing-place so  obscure,  but  His  presence  can  enter  and 
His  glory  illumine. 


Shadows  to-day,  while  shadows  show  God's  Will. 

Light  were  not  good  except  He  send  us  light. 

Shadows  to-day,  because  this  day  is  night 
Whose  marvels  and  whose  mysteries  fulfil 
Their  course  and  deep  in  darkness  serve  Him  still. 

Thou  dim  aurora,  on  the  extremest  height 

Of  airy  summits  wax  not  over  bright ; 
Refrain  thy  rose,  refrain  thy  daffodil. 
Until  God's  Word  go  forth  to  kindle  thee 

And  garland  thee  and  bid  thee  stoop  to  us, 

Blush  in  the  heavenly  choirs  and  glance  not  down : 
To-day  we  race  in  darkness  for  a  crown, 
In  darkness  for  beatitude  to  be, 

In  darkness  for  the  city  luminous. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 


A  root  set  in  the  finest  soil,  in  the  best  climate, 
and  blessed  with  all  that  sun  and  air  and  rain  can  do 
for  it,  is  not  in  so  sure  a  way  of  its  growth  to  perfec- 
tion, as  every  man  may  be,  whose  spirit  aspires  after 
all  that  which  God  is  ready  and  infinitely  desirous  to 
give  him.  For  the  sun  meets  not  the  springing  bud 
that  stretches  toward  him  with  half  that  certainty,  as 
God,  the  source  of  all  good,  communicates  Himself  to 
the  soul  that  longs  to  partake  of  Him.  —  WILLIAM 
LAW. 

[150] 


MAY   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

BE  yourself.  Bring  the  best  that  is  in  you  to  light ; 
do  not  keep  it  hidden  away,  as  if  there  were  noth- 
ing good  about  you.  Some  persons  imagine  this  to  be 
an  evidence  of  sincerity,  and  are  continually  showing 
others  their  worst  side.  This  is  a  mistake ;  our  faults 
and  failings  should  be  secrets  between  ourselves  and 
God,  therefore  to  Him  alone  should  they  be  revealed. 
It  would  be  well  if  of  each  of  us  it  might  be  said,  as 
Shakespeare  has  it, 

"  His  words  are  bonds,  his  oaths  are  oracles  : 
His  love  sincere,  his  thoughts  immaculate  ; 
His  tears  pure  messengers  sent  from  his  heart ; 
His  heart  so  far  from  fraud,  as  Heav'n  from  earth." 

Sincerity's  my  chief  delight, 
The  darling  pleasure  of  the  mind  : 
Oh,  that  I  could  to  her  invite, 
All  the  whole  race  of  human  kind ; 
Take  her,  mortals,  she's  worth  more 
Than  all  your  glory,  all  your  fame, 
Than  all  your  glittering  boasted  store, 
Than  all  the  things  that  you  can  name : 
She'll  with  her  bring  a  joy  divine, 
All  that's  good,  and  all  that's  fine. 

LADY  CHUDLEIGH. 

I  give  thoughts 
Words,  and  words  truth,  and   truth   boldness.     She 

whose 

Honest  freeness  makes  it  her  virtue  to 
Speak  what  she  thinks,  will  make  it  her  necessity 
To  think  what  is  good. 

JOHN   MARSTON. 

[151] 


MAY    TWENTY-FIFTH. 

WHO  pipes  upon  the  long  green  hill, 
Where  meadow  grass  is  deep  ? 
The  white  lamb  bleats  but  followeth  on  — 
Follows  the  clean  white  sheep. 

The  white  lambs  feed  in  tender  grass  ; 
With  them  and  thee  to  bide, 
How  good  it  were. 

JEAN   INGELOW. 

Kind  Shepherd,  who  Thy  little  flock  dost  guide, 
Wisdom  Thy  rod  —  Thy  staff  unceasing  love ; 

And  dost  in  pastures  feed  and  coverts  hide 
The  wanderers,  till  they  reach  Thy  fold  above. 

Each  weakness  and  each  want  to  Thee  are  known ; 

All  strength  is  Thine,  and  every  holy  joy ; 
The  people  whom  Thou  choosest  for  thine  own, 

No  force  can  sever,  and  no  power  destroy. 

Rich  is  the  food  Thou  givest,  bread  from  heaven, 
Waters  of  life  which  from  Thy  presence  flow ; 

And  fitting  guidance  all  their  journey  given, 
Thy  hand  directing  every  step  they  go. 

When  through  the  vale  of  death  they  leave  this  land- 
That  vale  where  all  is  dark  and  chilly  night  — 

Thou  wilt  conduct  them  to  Thine  own  right  hand, 
And  gild  the  vale  of  death  with  light. 

JAMES   EDMESTON. 

I  praise  my  loving  Lord,  who  maketh  me 
His  type  of  harmless  sweet  simplicity : 
Yet  He  the  Lamb  of  lambs  incomparably. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 


MAY   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

T  ET  your  thoughts,  words,  and  deeds  be  worthy  of 
J — *  the  Sabbath,  any  day  in  the  week.  James  Shir- 
ley said, 

"  Only  the  actions  of  the  just 
Smell  sweet  and  blossom  in  the  dust," 

and  if  your  life  will  bear  close  inspection,  it  will  be  as 
beautiful  in  the  midst  of  a  work-a-day  world  as  it  will 
in  the  quietude  of  the  Sabbath.  Do  not  carry  your 
goodness  with  your  Sunday  clothes  and  lay  it  away 
to  be  worn  once  a  week,  but  let  it  become  a  part  of 
yourself,  your  companion  in  the  daily  walks  of  life.  If 
you  only  don  your  good  thoughts  one  day  out  of  seven, 
they  will  become  mouldy  and  ill-fitting  from  disuse, 
and  you  will  wear  them  awkwardly,  because  your  nature 
will  shrink  away  from  them,  and  soon  be  too  small  to 
wear  them  at  all.  Let  your  life  be  a  Sabbath  of  rest 
to  the  weary,  and  a  Sabbath  of  joy  to  the  depressed 
and  discouraged,  and  carry  about  with  you  a  bit  of  the 
Gospel  in  your  smiles  and  cheery  words,  all  the  week. 

Sabbath  is  not  a  day  to  feast  our  bodies,  but  to  feed 

OUr  souls.  —  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE. 

The  Sabbath  is  to  the  rest  of  the  week  in  spirituals, 
what  summer  is  to  the  rest  of  the  year  in  temporals ; 
it  is  the  chief  time  for  gathering  knowledge  to  last  you 
through  the  following  week,  just  as  summer  is  the 
chief  season  for  the  gathering  of  food  to  last  you 
through  the  following  twelvemonth.  —  A.  w.  HARE. 

I  feel  as  if  God  had,  by  giving  the  Sabbath,  given 
fifty-two  springs  in  every  year.  —  COLERIDGE. 


MAY   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

I  WANDERED  lonely  as  a  cloud 
That  floats  on  high  o'er  vales  and  hills, 
When  all  at  once  I  saw  a  crowd,  — 

A  host  of  golden  daffodils 
Beside  the  lake,  beneath  the  trees, 
Fluttering  and  dancing  in  the  breeze. 

Continuous  as  the  stars  that  shine 
And  twinkle  on  the  Milky  Way, 

They  stretched  in  never-ending  line 
Along  the  margin  of  the  bay  : 

Ten  thousand  saw  I,  at  a  glance, 

Tossing  their  heads  in  sprightly  dance. 

The  waves  beside  them  danced,  but  they 
Outdid  the  sparkling  waves  in  glee  ; 

A  poet  could  not  but  be  gay 
In  such  a  jocund  company ; 

I  gazed  —  and  gazed  —  but  little  thought 

What  wealth  the  show  to  me  had  brought. 

For  oft,  when  on  my  couch  I  lie, 

In  vacant  or  in  pensive  mood, 
They  flash  upon  that  inward  eye 

Which  is  the  bliss  of  solitude  ; 
And  then  my  heart  with  pleasure  fills, 
And  dances  with  the  daffodils. 

WORDSWORTH. 

Were  I  in  churchless  solitudes  remaining, 
Far  from  all  voice  of  teachers  or  divines, 

My  soul  would  find,  in  flowers  of  God's  ordaining, 
Priests,  sermons,  shrines! 

HORACE   SMITH. 

[154] 


MAY  TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

DO  not  think  it  wasted  time  to  submit  yourself  to 
any  influence  which  may  bring  upon  you  any 
noble  feeling.  —  RUSKIN. 

Wouldst  thou  know  thyself,  observe  the  actions  of 

others. 
Wouldst  thou  other  men  know,  look  thou  within  thine 

OWn  heart'  SCHILLER. 

Do  not  forget  that  the  world  is  hung  with  mirrors, 
reflecting  you  as  you  really  are.  Have  you  never  real- 
ized this?  Perhaps  not,  and  yet  it  is  true.  How 
small  you  look  when  you  see  the  image  of  yourself  in 
the  bright  eyes  of  a  friend!  Yet  you  occupy  just  as 
much  room  as  is  possible  in  so  diminutive  a  space. 
So  with  the  soul  that  looks  into  your  soul ;  you  are 
measured  according  to  space.  Be  careful  of  your 
friends  and  associates.  Remember  they  measure  you 
by  themselves,  and  imagine  you  to  be  as  small-minded 
as  they.  Their  influence  will  affect  your  whole  life, 
and  you  will  unconsciously  adopt  their  thoughts  and 
ideas,  even  if  you  do  not  altogether  approve  of  them. 
Choose  only  such  friends  as  those  whose  influence  is 
pure  and  wholesome. 

Thy  face 

Gives  a  meaning  of  all  space ; 
And  thine  eyes,  with  starbeams  fraught, 
Hold  the  measure  of  all  thought ; 
For  of  them  my  soul  besought, 
And  was  shown  a  glimpse  of  thine. 

JEAN  INGELOW. 

[155] 


MAY   TWENTY-NINTH. 

WE  ought  to  cultivate  the  friendships  of  little 
things.  Beauty  is  one  of  the  surest  antidotes 
to  vexation.  Often  when  life  looks  dreary  from  some 
real  or  fancied  injustice,  or  indignity,  has  a  thought  of 
truth  been  flashed  into  my  mind  from  a  flower,  the 
frost,  a  shadow,  clouds,  rainbows,  stars,  and  sunrises! 

—  GEORGE  MACDONALD. 

Was  never  true  love  loved  in  vain, 
For  truest  love  is  highest  gain. 
No  art  can  make  it ;  it  must  spring 
Where  elements  are  fostering. 
So  in  Heaven's  spot  and  hour 
Springs  the  little  native  flower, 
Downward  root  and  upward  eye, 
Shapen  by  the  earth  and  sky. 

GEORGE   ELIOT. 

Our  outward  life  requires  them  not ; 

Then  wherefore  had  they  birth  ? 
To  minister  delight  to  man, 

To  beautify  the  earth  : 

To  comfort  man,  to  whisper  hope 

Whene'er  his  faith  is  dim ; 
For  "  Whoso  careth  for  the  flowers, 

Will  care  much  more  for  him ! " 

MARY   HOWITT. 

Your  voiceless  lips,  O  Flowers !  are  living  preachers, 
Each  cup  a  pulpit,  and  each  leaf  a  book, 

Supplying  to  my  fancy  numerous  teachers, 
From  loneliest  nook. 

HORACE   SMITH. 

[156] 


MAY  THIRTIETH. 

THE  days  are  slipping  softly  by,  and  our  sweet  May 
is  about  to  say  farewell.  How  much  brightness 
she  has  brought  with  her!  How  much  gladness  she 
brought  this  year,  and  last  year,  and  the  year  before, 
and  all  the  other  years  since  there  was  a  May-time ! 
She  is  warm-hearted  and  sympathetic  —  see  how  she 
caresses  the  flowers,  and  how  she  smiles  through  their 
beautiful  faces!  She  is  constant  and  true,  for  every 
year  she  comes  back  at  just  the  same  time,  to  walk  the 
old  paths  through  the  woodlands,  and  across  the 
meadows,  and  to  gladden  our  hearts  and  make  us  for- 
get our  cares.  Ah,  let  us  be  constant  too  —  true- 
hearted,  pure-hearted,  warm-hearted,  like  the  May! 
Our  years  roll  onward  with  the  flood  of  time,  and 
when  another  May  shall  blossom  on  the  earth,  let  our 
friendship  be  just  as  deep  and  true  as  it  is  to-day. 

Year  after  year  the  cowslips  fill  the  meadow, 
Year  after  year  the  skylarks  thrill  the  air, 

Year  after  year,  in  sunshine  or  in  shadow, 
Rolls  the  world  round,  love,  and  finds  us  as  we  were. 

Year  after  year,  as  sure  as  birds1  returning, 

Or  field  flowers'  blossoming  above  the  wintry  mould, 

Year  after  year,  in  work  or  mirth  or  mourning, 

Love  we  with  love's  own  youth,  that  never  can  grow 
old. 

Sweetheart  and  lady-love,  queen  of  boyish  passions, 
Strong  hope  of  manhood,  content  of  age  begun, 

Loved  in  a  hundred  ways,  each  in  a  different  fashion, 
Yet  loved  supremely,  solely,  as  we  never  love  but 

D.  M.  CRAIK. 
[157] 


MAY   THIRTY-FIRST. 

A  SOUL  which  sincerely  longs  after  God  never  con- 
siders whether  a  thing  be  small  or  great ;  it  is 
enough  to  know  that  He  for  whom  it  is  done  is  infi- 
nitely great ;  that  it  is  His  due  to  have  all  creation 
solely  devoted  to  His  glory,  which  can  only  be  fulfilling 

His  Will.  —  FENELON. 

Oh,  let  us  not  this  thought  allow! 
The  heat,  the  dust  upon  our  brow, 
Signs  of  the  contest,  we  may  wear ; 
Yet  thus  we  might  appear  more  fair 

In  our  Almighty  Master's  eye, 
Than  if  in  fear  to  lose  the  bloom, 
Or  ruffle  the  soul's  lightest  plume, 

We  from  the  strife  should  fly. 

R.  C.  TRENCH. 

Wanted :  Deeds. 
Not  words  of  winning  note, 
Not  thoughts  from  life  remote, 
Not  fond  religious  airs, 
Not  sweetly  languid  prayers, 
Not  love  of  scent  and  creeds. 

Wanted :  Deeds. 

DUNCAN  MACGREGOR. 

This  is  exactly  what  God  wants  every  day  of  your 
life  and  mine  —  deeds.  Something  to  prove  our  love 
for  Him  and  for  each  other. 

Let  me  not  leave  my  space  of  ground  untilled, 
Call  me  not  hence  with  mission  unfulfilled. 
Let  me  not  die  before  I've  done  for  Thee 
My  earthly  work,  whatever  that  may  be. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[158] 


•MBBB 


• 


ELIZABETH   BARRETT   BROWNING 
1806-1861 


OR  THE  MONTH 
OF   JUNE- 

* 
JUNE   FIRST. 

AH,  June  is  here!  wake,  heart  of  mine,  she  hath  a 
message  sweet  for  thee  —  a  message  from  a  mystic 
land,  a  Realm  of  Roses  pure  and  fair,  where  all  day 
long  new  joys  unfold,  and  happy  winds  blow  fresh  and 
free.  To-day  the  Summer-tide  is  born;  to-day  we 
leave  behind  the  May,  and  butterflies  and  birds  and 
bees  begin  the  roundelay  of  June,  quaint  queenly 
June,  with  roses  crowned,  the  Rose  of  all  the  garden 
of  the  year.  She  hath  a  message  :  listen  well !  a  mes- 
sage for  each  one  who  hears  ;  for  me  and  mine,  for  you 
and  yours.  'Tis  this:  "  Behind  the  roses  hid,  I  smile 
and  smile  the  livelong  day :  I  breathe  in  every  rose's 
breath,  and  sing  in  every  bird's  glad  throat,  and  make 
the  earth  look  fresh  and  gay  ;  but  back  of  me  a  Higher 
Power  has  showered  gifts  of  love  on  me  ;  the  Heart  of 
June  beats  large  and  warm,  above  the  wind,  above  the 
storm,  and  silvery  streams  and  rivers  run  and  sing  His 
praise  —  His  voice  obey.  The  Rose  of  Sharon  is  His 
name,  and  I  have  come  to  bid  the  earth  look  up  to 
Him,  take  heart  anew,  and,  like  the  rose,  exalt  His 
fragrance  till  it  rise  in  incense  to  the  throne  above." 

Woo  on,  with  odour  wooing  me, 

Faint  rose,  with  fading  core : 
For  God's  rose  thought  that  blooms  in  thee 

Will  bloom  forevermore. 

GEORGE   MACDONALD. 
[159] 


JUNE  SECOND. 

A  DAY  OF  ROSES. 

IN  the  wind  of  sunny  June 
Thrives  the  red  rose  crop, 
Every  day  fresh  blossoms  blow 
While  the  first  leaves  drop ; 
White  rose  and  yellow  rose 

And  moss-rose  choice  to  find, 
And  the  cottage  cabbage-rose 
Not  one  whit  behind. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 


Jasmine  is  sweet,  and  has  many  lovers, 
And  the  broom's  betrothed  to  the  bee ;  — 

But  I  will  plight  with  the  dainty  rose, 
For  fairest  of  all  is  she. 

THOMAS  HOOD. 


Roses,  roses,  all  my  song ! 

Roses  in  a  gorgeous  feast! 
Roses  in  a  royal  throng 

Surging,  rosing  from  the  east! 

Roses  all  the  rosy  way, 

Roses  to  the  rosier  west, 
Where  the  roses  of  the  day 

Cling  to  night's  unrosy  breast. 

Out  of  darkness  light  is  born ; 

Out  of  weakness  make  me  strong 
For  the  day  when  every  thorn 

Breaks  into  a  rose  of  song. 

GEORGE   MACDONALD. 
[160] 


JUNE   THIRD. 

AH,  we  cannot  think  about  it  too  often  —  the 
sweetness  of  charity !  And  if  we  brought  it  to 
mind  twice  as  often,  we  should  still  regret  that  we 
thought  of  it  so  little.  Put  a  great  deal  of  charity  into 
this  June  day.  Breathe  it  in  with  the  air  and  sun- 
shine —  God  has  smiled  upon  you  and  given  you 
plenty  of  it,  because  you  are  always  an  object  of  His 
divine  charity ;  —  give  it  out  generously  to  others. 

The  sun  gives  over ;  so  the  earth  — 
What  it  can  give  so  much  'tis  worth : 
The  ocean  gives  in  many  ways  — 
Gives  paths,  gives  fishes,  rivers,  bays ; 
So,  too,  the  air,  it  gives  us  breath  — 
When  it  stops  giving  comes  in  death. 
Give,  give,  be  always  giving ; 
Who  gives  not  is  not  living. 

The  more  you  give, 

The  more  you  live. 

God's  love  has  to  us  wealth  upheaped ; 
Only  by  giving  it  is  reaped. 
The  body  withers,  and  the  mind, 
If  pent  in  by  a  selfish  rind. 

Give  strength,  give  thought,  give  deeds,  give  pelf, 
Give  love,  give  tears,  and  give  thyself; 
Who  gives  not  is  not  living. 

The  more  we  give, 

The  more  we  live. 

ANONYMOUS. 

The  truly  generous  is  the  truly  wise ; 

And  he  who  loves  not  others,  lives  unblest. 

JOHN   HOME. 
[161] 


JUNE  FOURTH. 

THOU    shalt    not  bear  false  witness  against  thy 
neighbor.  —  NINTH  COMMANDMENT. 

You  only  repeated  innocently  what  you  heard?  Yes, 
that  is  the  way  most  of  us  do :  we  are  surprised  that 
such  little  sayings  can  ever  result  in  harm ;  we  do  not 
intend  to  injure  any  one's  good  name,  or  hurt  any  one's 
feelings,  and  yet  we  sometimes  thoughtlessly  do  that 
very  thing.  Oh,  let  us  start  afresh  this  June  weather  ! 

On  eagles'  wings  immortal  scandals  fly  ; 
While  virtuous  actions  are  but  born  and  die. 

HERVEY. 

Nor  do  they  trust  their  tongues  alone, 
But  speak  a  language  of  their  own  : 
Can  read  a  nod,  a  shrug,  a  look, 
Far  better  than  a  printed  book  ; 
Convey  a  libel  in  a  frown, 
And  wink  a  reputation  down. 

SWIFT. 

Beware  how  you  allow  words  to  pass  for  more  than 
they  are  worth,  and  bear  in  mind  what  alteration  is 
sometimes  produced  in  their  current  value  by  the  course 
of  time!  —  R.  SOUTHEY. 

God  preserve  us  from  the  destructive  power  of  words ! 
There  are  words  which  can  separate  hearts  sooner  than 
sharp  swords ;  there  are  words  whose  sting  can  remain 
through  a  whole  life!  —  MARY  HOWITT. 

It  is  busy  talking  world.  —  NICHOLAS  ROWE. 
[162] 


JUNE   FIFTH. 

A  SWARM  in  May 
Is  worth  a  load  of  hay ; 
A  swarm  in  June 
Is  worth  a  silver  spoon ; 
A  swarm  in  July 
Is  not  worth  a  fly. 

OLD  SAYING. 

June  is  our  opportunity,  and  we  may  as  well  embrace 
it.  May  has  gone,  and  we  have  only  the  present  time, 
which,  if  we  will  improve,  will  be  of  more  value  than  a 
"silver  spoon."  We  are  all  God's  bees,  gathering 
honey  for  His  hive,  I  trust.  Oh,  how  much  sweetness 
there  is  around  us !  Life's  meadows  are  overflowing 
with  rich  and  rare  perfumes,  and  flowers  are  springing 
everywhere.  Let  us  store  up  honey  for  the  future : 
loving  and  gentle  words,  little  unexpected  kindnesses, 
charitable  deeds,  and  daily  sacrifices  —  these  will  come 
back  to  us  in  golden  honey  for  the  Hive  of  Eternity. 

So  work  the  Honey  Bees : 
Creatures  that,  by  a  rule  in  nature,  teach 
The  art  of  order  to  a  peopled  kingdom. 
They  have  a  king,  and  officers  of  sorts : 
Where  some,  like  magistrates,  correct  at  home ; 
Others,  like  merchants,  venture  trade  abroad ; 
Others,  like  soldiers,  armed  in  their  stings, 
Make  boot  upon  the  Summer's  velvet  buds ; 
Which  pillage  they  with  merry  march  bring  home 
To  the  tent  royal  of  their  emperor. 
Who,  busied  in  his  majesty,  surveys 
The  singing  masons  building  roofs  of  gold. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


JUNE   SIXTH. 

T)ATIENCE  is  the  truest  sign  of  courage.  Ask  old 
A  soldiers  who  have  seen  real  war,  and  they  will  tell 
you  that  the  bravest  men,  the  men  who  endure  best, 
not  in  mere  fighting,  but  in  standing  still  for  hours  to 
be  mowed  down  by  cannon-shot ;  who  were  most  cheer- 
ful and  patient  in  shipwreck  and  starvation  and  defeat 
—  all  those  things  ten  times  worse  than  fighting ;  ask 
old  soldiers,  I  say,  and  they  will  tell  you  that  the  men 
who  showed  best  in  such  miseries  were  generally  the 
stillest,  meekest  men  in  the  whole  regiment.  That  is 
true  fortitude ;  that  is  Christ's  image ;  the  meekest  of 
men,  and  the  bravest,  too.  —  CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 

Patience !  why,  'tis  the  soul  of  peace : 
Of  all  the  virtues,  'tis  nearest  kin  to  Heaven : 
It  makes  men  look  like  gods.     The  best  of  men 
That  e'er  wore  earth  about  Him  was  a  sufferer, 
A  soft,  meek,  patient,  humble,  tranquil  spirit : 
The  first  true  Gentleman  that  ever  breathed. 

THOMAS   DEKKER. 

Therefore  wait ;  be  patient.  Look  at  the  grain-fields  ; 
what  are  they  doing  these  early  June  days?  Waiting 
for  the  harvest.  Look  at  the  orchards ;  they  have 
dropped  their  blossoms,  and  they  are  waiting  for 
ripened  fruition.  Is  this  all?  Ah,  no  ;  they  are  grow- 
ing, too.  Are  you  growing  richer  and  better? 

Whate'er  God  does  is  well ! 

In  patience  let  us  wait ; 

He  doth  himself  our  burdens  bear, 

He  doth  for  us  take  care, 
And  He,  our  God,  knows  all  our  weary  days. 

B.    SCHMOLCKE. 

[164] 


JUNE   SEVENTH. 

GOD  will  bring  the  sweet  recompense  by  and  by ; 
so  do  not  falter  by  the  way,  nor  look  into  the 
June  sunshine  blinded  by  your  tears  to  all  the  glory 
around  you.  The  little  unkind  word  that  has  rankled 
all  day  long  in  your  heart  —  forgive  it :  you  love  the 
dear  offender  too  well  to  harbor  ill-feelings  for  so  small 
a  thing.  Do  you  not  often  speak  hastily  yourself? 
Are  you  not  always  sorry  for  it?  How  much  better 
you  will  feel  to  forgive  it ! 

Now,  the  sowing  and  the  weeping, 
Working  hard  and  waiting  long ; 

Afterward,  the  golden  reaping, 
Harvest  home  and  grateful  song. 

Now,  the  long  and  toilsome  duty, 
Stone  by  stone  to  carve  and  bring ; 

Afterward,  the  perfect  beauty 
Of  the  palace  of  the  King. 

Now,  the  tuning  and  the  tension, 
Wailing  minors,  discord  strong ; 

Afterward,  the  grand  ascension 
Of  the  Alleluia  song. 

Now,  the  spirit  conflict-riven, 
Wounded  heart,  unequal  strife ; 

Afterward,  the  triumph  given, 
And  the  victor's  crown  of  life. 

Now,  the  training,  strange  and  lowly, 
Unexplained  and  tedious  now ; 

Afterward,  the  service  holy, 
And  the  Master's  "  Enter  thou! " 

FRANCES  RIDLEY  HAVERGAL. 


JUNE  EIGHTH. 

'T'HERE  are  but  two  paths  in  life :  one  leading  up- 
A  ward ;  the  other,  downward.  We  are  compelled 
to  travel  one  of  them ;  there  is  no  standing  still  in  this 
world  :  we  must  go  forward.  We  are  under  marching 
orders.  Be  careful  how  you  choose  your  path  in  life. 
Is  it  the  pathway  of  faith?  It  will  be  trodden  in  diffi- 
culties often,  but  little  acts  of  self-denial  will  drop  their 
seed  by  the  wayside,  and  spring  up  into  blossoms  of 
gold,  and  all  the  world  shall  know  you  are  travelling 
heavenward  by  the  brightness  you  scatter  around  you. 
The  downward  path  is  the  way  of  evil  and  sin  :  when 
the  heart  is  so  full  of  Self  that  it  cannot  find  room  for 
God,  weeds  of  envy  and  malice  and  worldliness  v.ill 
choke  out  the  blossoms  of  gold  that  might  have  lighted 
some  darkened  soul  to  Heaven. 

There  is  no  pathway  man  hath  ever  trod, 

By  faith  or  seeking  sight,  but  ends  in  God. 

Yet  'tis  in  vain  ye  look  without  to  find 

The  inner  secrets  of  the  eternal  mind, 

Or  meet  the  King  on  His  eternal  throne. 

But  when  ye  kneel  at  heart,  and  feel  so  lone, 

Perchance  behind  the  veil  you  get  the  grip 

And  spirit-sign  of  secret  fellowship ; 

Silently  as  the  gathering  of  a  tear 

The  human  want  will  bring  the  Helper  near ; 

The  very  weakness  that  is  utterest  need 

Of  God,  will  draw  Him  down  with  strength  indeed. 

GERALD   MASSEY. 

Man  should  be  ever  better  than  he  seems,  and  shape 
his  acts,  and  discipline  his  mind,  to  walk  adorning 
earth,  with  hope  of  Heaven.  —  SIR  A.  DEVERE. 

[166] 


JUNE   NINTH. 


"  A  ^^  ^oc*  sa^>  ^  c^°  set  mv 

•tA.  it  shall  be  for  a  token  of  a  covenant  between 
me  and  the  earth." 


One  of  the  grandest  sights  I  ever  beheld  was  a  rain- 
bow above  the  mountains.  Arched  in  perfect  grace 
and  symmetry,  with  every  separate  color  glowing 
against  a  misty  sky,  the  great  bow  of  God's  promise 
hung  in  jewelled  radiance  over  the  vernal,  pine-clad 
peaks.  The  trees,  still  wet  with  ''the  late-fallen 
showers,"  glittered  with  diamond  drops,  as  if  bathed  in 
tears,  while  far  down  below  us  the  sodden  valleys  and 
bosky  dells  were  steaming  in  the  warm  summer  air. 
A  perfect  silence  seemed  to  reign,  as  we  stood  with 
hushed  voices,  within  the  circle  of  the  divine  radius, 
and  looked  upon  the  heavenly  sign  of  our  Almighty 
Creator.  We  are  ever  encircled  by  the  rainbow  of 
His  promises :  the  Bible  is  full  of  them ;  let  us  bind 
them  about  us  as  a  girdle  of  praise,  and  wear  them  as 
precious  jewels  in  our  hearts. 

Meanwhile,  reflected  from  yon  eastern  cloud, 
Bestriding  earth,  the  grand  ethereal  cloud, 
Shoots  up  immense  ;  and  every  hue  unfolds, 
In  fair  proportion  running  from  the  red 
To  where  the  violet  fades  into  the  sky. 

JAMES  THOMSON. 

May  all  go  well  with  you!  May  life's  short  day  glide 
on  peaceful  and  bright,  with  no  more  clouds  than  may 
glisten  in  the  sunshine,  no  more  rain  than  may  form 
a  rainbow.  —  RICHTER. 

[167] 


JUNE  TENTH. 

NO  earthly  kingdom  could  be  to  thee  what  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  shall  prove,  when  thou  hast 
entered  into  its  glories,  and  obtained  the  rights  of  heir- 
ship.  The  higher  thou  dost  lift  thy  soul  while  here 
below,  the  higher  shall  be  thy  place  above.  Let  each 
day  be  a  step  upward  ;  climb  by  little  things.  He  who 
could  paint  with  such  beauty  a  butterfly's  wing  hath 
made  nothing  without  a  purpose.  Is  there  not  a 
lesson  for  thee  hidden  under  the  butterfly's  wing?  If 
so,  learn  thy  lesson,  for  God  is  thy  Teacher,  and  His 
teachings  are  never  in  vain. 

Look  high,  O  soul !  for  what  is  earth  but  dust  ? 

The  fleeting  shadow  of  the  better  things  ? 

The  heavens  are  thine  if  thou  wilt  use  thy  wings, 
And  sighs  are  songs  if  thou  wilt  only  trust. 

Aim  high,  O  soul !  for  on  the  higher  forms 
Is  always  room,  while  lower  ranks  are  filled  ; 
Who  climbs  the  heights  finds  all  earth's  noises  stilled, 

And  a  sweet  calm  and  light  above  the  storms. 

Be  high,  O  soul !  scorn  what  is  low  and  base ; 
"  Child  of  a  King,"  they  call  thee ;  be  a  king, 
And  troops  of  vassals  will  their  tribute  bring, 

To  crown  thee,  heir  of  glory,  child  of  grace. 

HENRY   BURTON. 

Is  life  a  field  ?    Then  plough  it  up  —  re-sow 
With  worthier  seed.     Is  life  a  ship?     Oh,  heed 
The  southing  of  thy  stars.     Is  life  a  breath? 
Breathe  deeper ;  draw  life  up  from  hour  to  hour,  — 
Ay,  from  deepest  deep  of  thy  soul. 

JEAN  INGELOW. 

[168] 


JUNE   ELEVENTH. 

MUSIC   is  the  inarticulate  speech   of    the   heart, 
which  cannot   be   compressed   into   words,   be- 
cause it  is  infinite.  —  WAGNER. 

Were  it  not  for  music  we  might,  in  these  days,  say 
the  beautiful  is  dead. — DISRAELI. 

God  grant  that  your  soul  may  be  filled  with  music ! 
Even  if  denied  the  gift  of  song,  you  can  cultivate  a  love 
for  the  harmonies  of  Nature,  the  symphonies  of  thought, 
and  the  songs  without  words,  which  are  quiet  commun- 
ings  with  God  whispered  into  your  spirit  by  the 
Divine  Musician.  Keep  the  heart  in  tune,  and  let  its 
music  draw  other  hearts  to  yours,  that  your  gladness 
may  be  to  them  the  key-note,  which  shall  be  like  a 
sweet  chime  ringing  out  the  music  of  a  Better  Life, 
whose  harp  resounds  with  melodies  of  Heaven. 

The  loveliest  scenes,  e'en  harmonies  of  June, 
Seem  discord,  if  the  heart  be  out  of  tune. 
Beneath  the  veil  of  pride  and  outward  show 
Ariseth  many  a  hidden  sigh  of  woe. 
The  wish  that  seems  to  thee  as  dear  as  life, 
Granted,  may  yield  but  sorrow,  care,  or  strife. 
Many  a  wish  may  come  to  thee  at  will, 
And  leave  thee  restless  and  unhappy  still. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Music  dwells 

Lingering,  and  wandering  on  as  loth  to  die, 
Like  thoughts  whose  very  sweetness  yieldeth  proof 
That  they  were  born  for  immortality. 

WORDSWORTH. 

[169] 


JUNE   TWELFTH. 

AS  you  grow  ready  for  it,  somewhere  or  other  you 
will  find  what  is  needful  for  you  in  a  book,  or  a 
friend,  or,  best  of  all,   in   your  own  thoughts  —  the 
eternal  thought  speaking  in  your  thought.  —  GEORGE 

MACDONALD. 

It  is  not  always  the  depth  or  the  novelty  of  a  thought 
which  constitutes  its  value  to  ourselves,  but  the  fitness 
of  its  application  to  our  circumstances. —  SEWELL. 

Thoughts  must  come  naturally,  like  wild  flowers ; 
they  cannot  be  forced  in  a  hot-bed  —  even  although 
aided  by  the  leaf-mould  of  your  past.  —  ALEXANDER 
SMITH. 

They  are  never  alone  that  are  accompanied  with 
noble  thoughts.  —  SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY. 

Thought  can  never  be  compared  with  action,  but 
when  it  awakens  in  us  the  image  of  truth. —  MADAME 

DE   STAEL. 

Nurture  your  mind  with  great  thoughts ;  to  believe 
in  the  heroic  makes  heroes. —  i.  DISRAELI 

Learning  without  thought  is  labour  lost ;  and  thought 
without  learning  is  perilous.  —  CONFUCIUS. 

Receive  your  thoughts  like  guests,  to  be  entertained 
according  to  their  importance. — AL-MAIDANI. 

Thought  is  the  wind,  knowledge  the  sail,  and  man- 
kind the  vessel. — j.  c.  HARE. 

A  thoughtful  day  to  you ! 

[170] 


JUNE   THIRTEENTH. 


LET-H??!?.  b^J^othmg^  *n  to~day  tq_  regret  !  Make 
to-day  better  than  yesterday:  you  remember, 
perhaps,  when  you  calmly  reviewed  the  day's  events 
before  you  went  to  sleep,  you  thought  of  something 
you  did  which  you  were  sorry  for.  DonH  let  it  happen 
again  to-day.  Srjgak  guardedly,  act_  deliberately,  and 
then  there  will  be  no  cause  for  /•  repenting  at  leisure^" 
Regrets  are  like  myriads  of  little  insects  that  swarm 
about  the  light,  ever  following  in  its  wake,  and  all  to- 
gether forming  a  persistent  cloud  of  annoyance.  Go 
where  we  will,  regrets  take  wing  and  swarm  about  us, 
and  even  in  our  dreams  they  come  to  haunt  us.  Oh,  for 
the  idle  word  of  yesterday  ! 

Oh^that  word.  Regret! 

There  have  been   nights  and   morns   when  we  have 

sighed, 

"  Let  us  alone,  Regret  !    We  are  content 
To  throw  thee  all  our  past,  so  thou  wilt  sleep 
For  aye."     But  it  is  patient,  and  it  wakes  ; 
It  hath  not  learned  to  cry  itself  to  sleep, 
But  plaineth  on  the  bed  that  it  is  hard. 

We  did  amiss  when  we  did  wish  it  gone 
And  over  ;  sorrows  humanise  our  race  ; 
Tears  are  the  showers  that  fertilise  this  world  ; 
And  memory_of  things  .precious  keejeth  warm 
The  heart_that  oncejiid  hold  them,, 

They  are  poor 

That  hath  lost  nothing  ;  they  are  poorer  far 
Who,  losing,  have  forgotten  ;  they  most  poor 
Of  all,  who  lost  and  wish  they  might  forget. 

JEAN  INGELOW. 
[171] 


JUNE   FOURTEENTH. 

T)ATIENCE  and  resignation  are  the  pillars 
A       Of  human  peace  on  earth. 

YOUNG. 

We  may  always  find  peace,  if  we  look  for  it  in  the 
right  place  :  it  can  be  had  simply  for  the  asking. 

He  to  the_cpjjflic.t 

Wasjturning  His  face, 
The  cross  loomed  before  Him, 

But  He,  full  of  grace, 
Looked  jon_the  disciples, 

Grown  weary  with  care, 
And  gavejjigm  His  blessing, 

And  stilled  them  withjjrayet* 

He  the  departed  One  — 

What  would  He  leave 
To  quiet  and  comfort 

The  hearts  that  must  grieve  ? 
This,  that  would  ever 

Cause  sorrow  to  cease, 
His  benediction 

Of  quiet  and  peace. 

Down  through  the  centuries, 

None  of  it  lost, 
Comes  the  kind  legacy 

Won  through  great  cost. 
Know,  all  yp  troubled 


Treading  life^s_w_a.v. 
ace  is^the  biggs  jng. 
Christ  gives_.v.Qu  to.-day^ 

MARIANNE  FARNINGHAM. 
[172] 


JUNE   FIFTEENTH. 

JUSTICE  is  a  grand  thing,  and  the  man  who  prac- 
J  tises  it  in  all  affairs  of  his  daily  life  sits  on  a 
higher  throne  than  kings.  His  throne  is  Reason,  and 
he  has  conquered  prejudice  and  policy,  and  holds  in 
his  hand  the  well-balanced  scales  with  which  to  weigh 
the  acts  and  deeds  of  his  fellow-men. 

Justice  is  truth  in  action. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Fidelity  is  the  sister  of  Justice. 

HORACE. 

Patience  and  gravity  of  bearing  are  an  essential  part 
of  justice  ;  and  an  over-speaking  judge  is  no  well-tuned 
cymbal.  —  LORD  BACON. 

Justice  must  be  from  violence  exempt  ; 
But  fraud's  her  only  object  of  contempt  : 
Fraud  in  the  fox,  force  in  the  lion  dwells  ; 
But  justice  both  from  human  hearts  expels  ; 
But  he^j  the  greatest  jnonste.r,  vvithout  doubt, 
Who  is  a  wolf  withm,  a^  sheep  without  . 

SIR   JOHN   DENHAM. 


not  ju&t_because  theyjdp  no  wrqngj 
But  he  who  will  not  wrong  me  when  he 
He  is  the  truly  just. 


RICHARD   CUMBERLAND. 


God  is  the  God  of  Justice  ;   in  His  hands  are  the 
scales  of  Justice,  with  which  He  weighs  the  deeds  of  all 
men.     Let  us  not  be  "weighed,  and  found  wanting." 
[i73] 


JUNE   SIXTEENTH. 

MAY  this  day  have  a  bright  sunrise  and  a  glorious 
sunset !  How  restful  it  is,  at  the  close  of  a 
dreamy  summer  day,  to  look  back  over  the  hours,  and 
feel  that  they  were  well  and  profitably  spent ;  to  know 
that  you  have  faithfully  tried  to  do  your  duty  in  all 
things,  and  have  not  murmured  or  complained;  and 
that  your  crosses  have  been  patiently  and  cheerfully 
borne!  The  glad  heart  turns  sighs  into  singing,  and 
tears  into  smiles.  Make  the  day  beautiful,  and  you  shall 
have  a  beautiful  sunset.  Peace  will  enfold  you  with 
her  white  wings,  and  you  shall  lie  down  to  pleasant 
dreams,  with  the  consciousness  that  you  have  spent  a 
happy,  useful  day.  Oh,  that  the  glory  of  a  Christian's 
sunset  may  illumine  for  you  each  dying  day,  and  help 
to  fit  you  for  the  sunrise  in  Heaven! 

How  fine  has  the  day  been,  how  bright  was  the  sun, 
How  lovely  and  joyful  the  course  that  he  run, 
Though  he  rose  in  a  mist,  when  his  race  he  begun, 

And  there  followed  some  droppings  of  rain ! 
But  now  the  fair  traveller's  come  to  the  west, 
His  rays  are  all  gold,  and  his  beauties  are  best ; 
He  paints  the  sky  gay  as  he  sinks  to  his  rest, 

And  foretells  a  bright  rising  again. 

Just  such  is  the  Christian  ;  his  course  he  begins, 
Like  the  sun  in  a  mist,  when  he  mourns  for  his  sins, 
And  melts  into  tears  ;  then  he  breaks  out  and  shines  ; 

And  travels  his  heavenly  way ; 
But  when  he  comes  nearer  to  finish  his  race, 
Like  a  fine  setting  sun,  he  looks  richer  in  grace, 
And  gives  a  sure  hope  at  the  end  of  his  days, 

Of  rising  in  brighter  array. 

ISAAC    WATTS. 

[174] 


JUNE   SEVENTEENTH. 

R  great  trouble^  js,jwe  are  too  sure  of  ourselves. 

It  is  not  until  we  do  the  wrong  thing,  at  the  wrong 
time,  and  in  the  wrong  place,  that  we  find  out  how  lit- 
tle real  tact  we  possess  ;  not  until  we  fail  of  making  a 
success  in  life  that  we  realize  we  were  not  so  gifted 
after  all ;  not  until  we  have  planned  our  future,  and 
God  has  decreed  it  otherwise,  that  we  discover  our  lack 
of  judgment ;  and  not  until  we  learn  how  strong  God 
is,  that  we  feel  our  utter  weakness.  It  is  when  we  are 
crushed  and  stricken  that  we  turn  our  hearts  heaven- 
ward. Oh,  that  we  could  learn  to  trust  God  more  fully  ! 

LejLvejJl  to.God, 
Forsaken  one,  and  stay  thy  tears.; 

For  the  Highest  knows  thy  pain, 
Sees  thy  sufferings  and  _thy_fearsj 
Thou  shalt  not  wait  His  help  in  vain : 
Leave  all  to  God. 

Be.  still  andjrustl 
For  His  strokes  are  strokes  of_Jo_y.& 

Thou  must  for_thy  profit  bear  ^ 
He  thy  filial  fear  wpuld  move..; 
Trust_thy_  Fathejr^s  -layjng^cate . 
Be  still  and  trust  1 

Oh,  teach  Him  not 
When  and  how  to  hear  thy  prayers ; 

Neverjioth  our  God  forgel, 
He  the  cross  who  longest  bears 
Finds  his  sorrows'  bounds  are  set. 
Then  teach  Him  not. 

ANTON  ULRICH,  OF  BRUNSWICK,  1667. 
[175] 


JUNE   EIGHTEENTH. 

LIFE  is  a  restless  sea,  and  man  the  mariner  steer- 
ing across  from  shore  to  shore.  When  the  sky 
is  fair,  and  the  waves  calm,  the  voyage  will  be  smooth 
and  prosperous  ;  but  storms  will  come  and  the  breakers 
dash  high,  and  what  then?  There  is  a  Divine  Hand 
guiding  the  barque  of  the  Christian  mariner,  which  the 
eye  of  faith  can  discern  in  the  darkest  night.  The 
mariner  knows  his  Captain's  powers;  calmly  and 
serenely  he  sails  beneath  the  terrors  of  a  stormy  sky, 
flashing  with  lightning  and  booming  with  thunders,  as- 
sured of  the  strength  of  that  guiding  Hand  that  rules 
the  fiercest  gale.  Be  not  thou  afraid  to  launch  thy 
boat,  if  thou  hast  chosen  God  to  go  with  thee  across 
life's  perilous  sea:  the  voyage  is  not  long  —  a  few  brief 
years,  then  Home  shall  rise  in  sight,  and  all  be  well. 

Launch  thy  bark,  mariner! 

Christian,  God  speed  thee! 
Let  loose  the  rudder-bands  — 

Good  angels  lead  thee! 
Set  thy  sails  warily, 

Tempests  will  come ; 
Steer  thy  course  steadily ; 

Christian,  steer  home! 

Slacken  not  sail  yet 

At  inlet  or  island ; 
Straight  for  the  beacon  steer, 

Straight  for  the  high  land ; 
Crowd  all  thy  canvas  on, 

Cut  through  the  foam  — 
Christian!  cast  anchor  now  — 

Heaven  is  thy  home! 

CAROLINE  SOUTHEY. 
[176] 


JUNE   NINETEENTH. 

HOW  sweet  is  the  name  of  Mother !  In  it  is  em- 
braced all  that  is  pure  and  holy,  good  and  beau- 
tiful. We  linger  over  it  with  tenderness,  and  enshrine 
it  in  our  heart  of  hearts,  like  a  precious  jewel  to  be 
guarded  and  prized  as  long  as  life  shall  last.  About 
that  hallowed  name  clusters  the  sacredness  of  home ; 
and  from  a  mother's  loving  influence  emanates  all  that 
is  ennobling,  and  that  inspires  us  with  longings  after 
a  higher  and  better  life.  Who  can  estimate  the  value 
of  a  mother's  influence?  Who  can  measure  the  depths 
of  a  mother's  love  ?  They  are  links  between  us  and 
Heaven.  They  who  have  never  known  a  mother's 
love  have  missed  half  the  blessedness  of  living,  and  to 
such  as  these  the  love  of  God  must  be  more  tender  and 
sweet.  May  the  influence  of  the  good  mothers  of  Eng- 
land, whether  in  palace  or  cot,  make  her  name  more 
and  more  revered,  and  her  people  worthier  of  all  God's 
goodness ! 

The  mother,  in  her  office,  holds  the  key 

Of  the  soil ;  and  she  it  is  who  stamps  the  coin 

Of  .character,  and  makes  the  being  who  would  be  a 

savage, 

But  for  her  gentle  cares,  a  Christian  man. 
Then  crown  her  Queen  of  the  world. 

OLD   PLAY. 

Sweet  is  the  image  of  the  brooding  dove ! 
Holy  as  Heaven  a  mother's  tender  love! 
The  love  of  many  prayers,  and  many  tears, 
Which  changes  not  with  dim  declining  years  — 
The  only  love  which,  on  this  teeming  earth, 
Asks  no  return  for  passion's  wayward  birth. 

CAROLINE   NORTON. 

[177] 


JUNE   TWENTIETH. 

MAY  thy  heart  be  as  full  of  music  as   England's 
forest  minstrel  ! 

Hark!  ah,  the  nightingale  — 

The  tawny-throated! 

Hark  !  from  that  moonlit  cedar  what  a  burst ! 

What  triumph  !  hark  !  what  pain  ! 

MATTHEW  ARNOLD. 

Sweet  bird  that  sing'st  away  the  early  hours 
Of  winters  past  or  coming,  void  of  care, 
Well  pleased  with  delights  which  present  are, 

Fair  seasons,  budding  sprays,  sweet-smelling  flowers. 

DRUMMOND. 

The  nightingale's  sweet  music 
Fills  the  air  and  leafy  bowers. 

HEINE. 

The  nightingale  now  wanders  in  the  vines  : 
Her  passion  is  to  seek  roses. 

LADY  MARY  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

The  bird  that  sings  on  highest  wing, 
Builds  on  the  ground  her  lowly  nest ; 

And  she  that  doth  most  sweetly  sing, 
Sings  in  the  shade  when  all  things  rest : 

In  lark  and  nightingale  we  see 

What  honour  hath  humility. 

MONTGOMERY. 

Be  thou  filled  with  humility,  like  the  lark,  and  let 
thy  soul  sing  in  the  darkness,  like  the  nightingale! 
[178] 


JUNE   TWENTY-FIRST. 

'T^HINK  not  to  escape  sorrow.  Even  in  the  sum- 
J-  mer  days  it  comes  to  happy  hearts  all  over  God's 
green  earth.  Ah,  it  is  pitiful  to  stand  amid  the  roses, 
and  feel  too  sorely  stricken  to  see  their  beauty  and 
scent  their  perfume ;  it  is  sorrowful  to  be  baptized  in  a 
flood  of  sunshine,  and  yet  be  not  aware  of  it ;  to  walk 
knee-deep  in  clover,  and  to  think  your  pathway  is  dark 
and  gloomy  and  desolate ;  and  to  be  too  blinded  by 
grief  to  see  that  the  sky  is  as  blue  as  ever,  and  that 
God's  dear  Hand  is  outstretched  still.  Stand  not  doubt- 
ing and  desponding,  but  let  Him  share  your  heart-aches. 
He  will  pour  His  sunlight  into  your  spirit,  until  your 
vision  shall  no  longer  be  holden  from  His  glories. 

Saviour  !    by  Thy  sweet  compassion. 

So  unmeasured,  so  Divine ; 
By  that  bitter,  bitter  Passion ; 

By  that  crimson  Cross  of  Thine  ; 
By  the  woes  Thy  love  once  tasted 

In  this  sin-marred  world  below, 
Succour  those  in  tribulation, 

Succour  those  in  sorrow  now. 

Thou  who  wast  so  sorely  burdened, 
Help  the  weak  that  are  oppressed ; 

Sanctify  all  earthly  crosses, 
For  the  coming  day  of  rest ; 

Tell  them  Thou  canst  see  all  sorrow 
In  this  world's  rough  wilderness  ; 

Tell  them  Thou  art  near  to  succour, 
Near  to  comfort  and  to  bless. 

ADA   CAMBRIDGE. 
[179] 


JUNE   TWENTY-SECOND. 

WHATEVER  you  are,  be  faithful.  Faithful  to 
duty,  faithful  in  little  things,  faithful  in  friend- 
ships, faithful  to  God.  Do  not  allow  yourself  to  slight 
anything  that  is  worth  doing.  Half-way  sewing  gives 
you  a  garment  to  do  over  again  ;  half-way  study  makes 
failures  in  examinations ;  half-read  articles  weaken 
your  memory ;  half-way  business  loses  customers ;  half- 
way friendships  are  not  worth  having.  God  bless  the 
loyal  man  or  woman,  who  will  uphold  a  good  cause, 
and  be  faithful  to  it,  come  what  may  !  "  What  is  worth 
doing,  is  worth  doing  well,"  and  what  is  worth  being,  is 
worth  our  best  in  faithfulness  and  steadfastness  of 
purpose.  To  be  loyal  to  those  you  love,  and  to  prove 
your  fidelity  in  time  of  need,  this  too  is  desirable,  and 
shows  a  heart  sincere.  Let  it  be  truthfully  said  of  you, 
that  you  were 

Faithful  found 

Among  the  faithless.  .  .  . 

His  loyalty  he  kept,  his  love,  his  zeal ; 

Nor  number  with  example  with  him  wrought 

To  swerve  from  truth,  or  change  his  constant  mind, 

Though  single. 

MILTON. 

Thought  ye  your  iron  hands  of  pride 
Could  break  the  knot  that  hath  been  tried  ? 
No :  —  let  the  eagle  change  her  plume, 
The  leaf  its  hue,  the  flow'r  its  bloom ; 
But  ties  around  this  heart  were  spun, 
That  could  not,  would  not,  be  undone! 

CAMPBELL. 

Here  is  my  hand  for  true  constancy. 

SHAKESPEARE. 
[180] 


JUNE   TWENTY-THIRD. 

THIS  is  my  prayer  for  thee  to-day :  that  thou  mayst 
have  patience,  long-suffering,  and  endurance  ;  that 
thou  mayst  forget  self  and  its  weakness,  and,  relying 
only  upon  the  divine  strength,  mayst  look  upward  and 
outward,  and  rejoice !  God  is  everywhere ;  "  His 
strength  is  in  the  hills,"  and  His  song  is  rippling  in 
gladness  from  the  rivers  and  seas.  He  who  hath  es- 
tablished the  rocks  and  formed  the  mountains  hath 
not  forgotten  thee.  He  will  put  a  new  song  into  thine 
heart,  and  strengthen  and  uphold  thee,  and  give  thee 
courage  to  endure  unto  the  end. 


Be  strong  to  hope,  O  Heart! 

Though  day  is  bright, 
The  stars  can  only  shine 

In  the  dark  night. 
Be  strong,  O  Heart  of  mine, 

Look  toward  the  light ! 

Be  strong  to  bear,  O  Heart ! 

Nothing  is  vain : 
Strive  not,  for  life  is  care, 

And  God  sends  pain ; 
Heaven  is  above,  and  there 

Rest  will  remain  ! 

Be  strong  to  love,  O  Heart ! 

Love  knows  not  wrong ; 
Didst  thou  love  creatures  even, 

Life  were  not  long ; 
Didst  thou  love  God  in  Heaven, 

Thou  wouldst  be  strong. 

ADELAIDE   A.    PROCTER. 
[181] 


JUNE  TWENTY-FOURTH. 

A  WORD  of  commendation  or  praise,  sincere  be- 
cause it  issues  from  the  heart,  is  always  helpful 
and  encouraging.  But  flattery  is  to  every  earnest, 
truthful  nature  most  unwelcome  and  distasteful.  When 
you  flatter,  you  commit  two  wrongs  :  one  against  your- 
self, and  one  against  the  person  to  whom  you  are 
speaking.  The  man  who  indulges  in  oft-repeated 
flatteries  grows  more  and  more  indifferent  to  truth, 
until  his  conscience  becomes  calloused  to  its  gentle 
teachings.  Don't  seek  to  further  your  ends  by  speak- 
ing what  you  don't  feel ;  don't  allow  policy  to  lead  you 
away  from  your  better  self  and  to  trample  truth  under 
your  feet.  Encourage,  commend,  and  say  a  helpful, 
kind  word,  but  do  not  stoop  to  the  level  of  a  flatterer : 
it  is  always  easier  to  fall  a  little  lower,  when  once  you 
are  down.  Let  all  of  your  words  and  actions  tend  to 
elevate  and  ennoble  you. 

Beware  of  flattery,  'tis  a  weed 

Which  oft  offends  the  very  idol  —  vice, 

Whose  shrine  it  would  perfume. 

FENTON. 

Minds 

By  nature  great  are  conscious  of  their  greatness, 
And  hold  it  mean  to  borrow  aught  from  flattery. 

ROWE. 

Parent  of  wicked,  bane  of  honest  deeds, 
Pernicious  flattery !  thy  malignant  seeds, 
In  an  ill  hour,  and  by  a  fated  hand, 
Sadly  diffus'd  o'er  virtue's  gleby  land, 
With  rising  pride  amidst  the  corn  appear, 
And  choke  the  hopes  and  harvests  of  the  year. 

PRIOR. 

[182] 


JUNE   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

SUMMER  days,  with  all  their  dreamy  beauty,  often 
find  us  filled  with  restless  longings  and  discontent. 
We  look  up  into  the  sky,  and  follow  the  fleecy  clouds, 
and  our  unsatisfied  souls  grow  weary  with  watching 
their  ever-shifting  whiteness  ;  the  song  of  the  river  lulls 
us  for  a  time,  and  again  we  cry  out  for  rest.  When 
we  shall  reach  the  fadeless  Summer-land  of  the  world 
above,  and  not  until  then,  shall  our  longing  souls  be 
satisfied. 

When  I  shall  wake  on  that  fair  morn  of  morns, 
After  whose  dawning  never  night  returns, 
And  with  whose  glory  day  eternal  burns, 
I  shall  be  satisfied. 

When  I  shall  see  Thy  glory  face  to  face, 
When  in  Thine  arms  Thou  wilt  Thy  child  embrace, 
When  Thou  shalt  open  all  Thy  stores  of  grace, 
I  shall  be  satisfied. 

When  I  shall  meet  with  those  whom  I  have  loved, 
Clasp  in  my  eager  arms  the  long-removed, 
And  find  how  faithful  Thou  hast  proved, 
I  shall  be  satisfied. 

When  I  shall  gaze  upon  the  face  of  Him 
Who  for  me  died,  with  eyes  no  longer  dim, 
And  praise  Him  in  the  everlasting  hymn, 
I  shall  be  satisfied. 

When  I  shall  call  to  mind  the  long,  long  past, 
With  clouds  and  storms  and  shadows  overcast, 
And  know  that  I  am  saved  and  blest  at  last, 
I  shall  be  satisfied. 

HORATIUS   BONAR. 
[I83] 


H 


JUNE   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

'OW  often  we  are   mistaken  in  people!     Havard 

says, 

"  Appearances  deceive, 
And  this  one  maxim  is  a  standing  rule,  — 
Men  are  not  what  they  seem." 

It  is  true  we  are  unable  to  understand  each  other  in 
the  brief  glimpses  we  have,  as  we  pass  back  and  forth 
in  our  daily  lives.  A  man's  outer  garb  may  betoken 
him  a  gentleman,  when  he  is  at  heart  anything  else. 
A  woman's  queenly  grace  and  beauty  may  stamp  her 
as  a  lady,  when  she  may  never  have  known  the  true 
meaning  of  the  word.  The  dark  side  of  life  may  have 
changed  a  man's  nature  to  such  an  extent,  that  when 
you  look  into  his  face  you  say, "  He  is  a  villain,"  whereas 
it  is  only  poverty  and  hunger  and  despair  that  are 
speaking  through  his  hollow-looking  eyes  and  gloomy 
countenance.  Perhaps 

"  That  gloomy  outside,  like  a  rusty  chest* 
Contains  the  shining  treasure  of  a  sou] 
Resolved  and  brave," 

as  Dryden  has  it.  We  are  too  easily  influenced  by  ap- 
pearances, and,  in  consequence,  a  rough  exterior  is  often 
undervalued,  when  beneath  lies  hidden  a  heart  of  pur- 
est truth  and  highest  nobility.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand, 
some  men  are  outwardly  polished  and  attractive :  we 
can  scarcely  believe  they  can  be  other  than  they  seem. 
Shakespeare  says, 

"  Why  should  the  sacred  character  of  virtue 

Shine  on  a  villain's  countenance  ? " 
Because  perhaps  he  makes,  to  quote  Churchill's  words, 
"  Appearances  to  save  his  only  care  ; 
So  things  seem  right,  no  matter  what  they  are.'''' 
[184] 


JUNE   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

TO  pray  together,  in  whatever  tongue  or  ritual,  is 
the  most  tender  brotherhood  of  hope  and  sympa- 
thy that  men  can  contract  in  this  life.  —  MADAME  DE 
STAEL. 

He  whojnay_s  jwhhou^confidence^jcannpt  hope  that_ 
his  prayers  wiU  be  granted.  —  FENELON. 

In  prayer  jhe  lips  ne'er  act  the  winning  jparj; 

Without  the  sweet  concurrence  of  the  heart,. 

HERRICK. 

Prayer  moves  the  jland  which  moves  the  world^ 

JOHN  AIKMAN  WALLACE. 

j^erve  Gqd  bejfqrejhe  world, ;  let  Him  not  jjo 
UntiHhou  hast  a  blgssjng ;  then  resign 
The  whole  unto  Him:  and  remember  who. 

7    «wrir  ~ 4       '      "     ' 

Prevail'd  by  wrestling  ere_the  sun.  didjaMne, 
Pour  oyle  upon_the_stgnesj__wee2  for  thy_§ia4. 
Then  journey  ^>n.  and  have  an  eye  to  Heav^n^ 

VAUGHAN. 

They  never  sough t_in_vain  that  spughUhe  Lord  Bright. 

BURNS. 

More  things  are  wrought  by  prayer 
Than  thisjvorld  drean^of^    Wherefore,  let  thy  voice 
Rise  like  a  fountain  for  me  night  and  day. 
Fox  what  arg_menjbetter_than  sheep_  or  ^gpajs 
That  nourish  a  blind  life  within  the  brajn, 
lf^  knowin^_Gpji,  they  lift  not  hands_of  PJ^Y^T 
Both  fqrjhemselves  and  those ^\iio_ call  them  friend? 
For  so  the  whole  round  earth  is  eyerjf  way 
Bound  by  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God. 

TENNYSON. 

[185] 


JUNE   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

WE  should  learn  to  be  temperate  in  all  things. 
The  thirst  for  knowledge  has  led  to  the  utter 
ruin  of  many  a  mind.  The  appetite  of  the  mind  should 
be  held  in  check,  as  well  as  the  appetite  of  the  body. 
Continued  pampering  will  result  in  disease :  overfed 
minds  cannot  continue  strong  and  vigorous,  any  more 
than  overfed  bodies.  Many  a  bright,  young  intellect 
has  been  clouded  forever,  because  ambitious  teachers, 
parents,  and  friends  have  made  a  god  of  knowledge, 
and  sacrificed  an  innocent  victim  on  its  altar.  Youth- 
ful inventors,  musicians,  and  artists,  as  well  as  students 
of  literature  and  language,  are  to-day  shut  up  between 
the  walls  of  our  asylums  because  of  intemperate  habits 
in  reading  and  studying.  The  mind  must  have  exer- 
cise, recreation,  and  rest ;  it  must  not  be  overcrowded, 
but  should  unfold  slowly,  as  an  opening  rose,  in  the 
sunny  garden  of  Knowledge. 


The  mind  of  man  is  this  world's  true  dimension ; 
And  knowledge  is  the  measure  of  the  mind  : 
And  as  the  mind,  in  her  vast  comprehension, 
Contains  more  worlds  than  all  the  world  can  find, 
So  knowledge  doth  itself  far  more  extend, 
Than  all  the  minds  of  man  can  comprehend. 

LORD   BROOKE. 


Knowledge  is  as  food,  and  needs  no  less 
Her  temperance  over  appetite,  to  know 
In  measure  what  the  mind  may  well  contain, 
Oppresses  else  with  surfeit,  and  soon  turns 
Wisdom  to  folly. 

MILTON. 

[186] 


JUNE   TWENTY-NINTH. 

AN  argument  has  often  been  the  means  of  separat- 
ing friends.  With  some  people  arguing  is  a 
hobby ;  they  are  never  really  happy  until  deep  in  an 
argument  with  some  one,  and  are  often  very  unhappy 
before  they  get  out  of  it.  A  constant  war  of  words 
is  unpleasant ;  it  renders  one  sharp-tongued  and  fretful, 
and  takes  the  sweetness  out  of  any  disposition.  The 
man  who  boasts  that  he  always  carries  his  point  often 
imagines  he  does  so,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  his  oppo- 
nent is  just  as  sure  that  he  has  been  defeated.  An 
argument  seldom  results  in  a  change  of  opinion,  and 
is,  therefore,  in  many  cases,  a  mere  waste  of  time  and 
breath,  and  often  ends  in  a  quarrel.  Avoid  controver- 
sies where  they  create  hard  feelings ;  but  where  you 
know  a  friend  is  in  the  wrong,  endeavor  kindly  to  point 
out  his  error  and  convince  him  of  his  mistake.  Do 
not  approach  him  when  he  is  angry,  for  then  he  is 
unfit  to  reason  with  you,  but  let  him  calmly  and  delib- 
erately be  shown  what  you  conscientiously  believe  to 
be  the  right,  and  then  he  will  listen  quietly. 

Be  calm  in  arguing.     For  fierceness  makes 
Error  a  fault,  and  truth  discourtesy. 
Why  should  I  feel  another  man's  mistakes 
More  than  his  sickness  or  poverty? 
In  love  I  should ;  but  anger  is  not  love, 
Nor  wisdom  neither ;  therefore  gently  move : 
Calmness  is  great  advantage. 

HERBERT. 

If  truth  be  with  thy  friend,  be  with  them  both : 
Share  in  the  conquest,  and  confess  a  troth. 

HERBERT. 

[187] 


JUNE   THIRTIETH. 

FAREWELL,  sweet  June!  thy  little  race  is  run,  thy 
first  bright  roses  hang  their  drooping  heads,  but 
one  by  one  new  buds  have  opened  in  the  sun,  and  not 
a  link  of  beauty  yet  is  lost.  So  in  the  wheaten  fields, 
that  wave  like  golden  seas,  if  one  stalk  withers  through 
a  blighted  heart,  its  fellows  closer  crowd  and  hide  its 
early  grave,  and  no  one  but  the  Father  knows  the  spot. 
The  strawberries  have  turned  their  soft  cheeks  to  the 
light,  and,  rich  and  luscious,  ripened  into  red ;  and 
their  abundant  yield,  like  rose,  like  golden  wheat,  has 
failed  not  in  the  glory  of  the  June.  Our  deeds,  our 
acts  of  love,  —  oh,  that  they  too  have  been  unmarred 
by  fading  leaves  of  sad  mistakes,  or  withered  stalks  of 
blighted  trust,  or  stolen  fruits  that  robbed  our  neigh- 
bor's store  of  joys  !  Oh,  that  in  some  sweet  aftermath, 
our  roses,  grain,  and  fruit  may  make  for  some  tired 
heart  a  rest ! 

Therefore  myself  is  that  one  only  thing 

I  hold  to  use  or  waste,  to  keep  or  give ; 

My  sole  possession  every  day  I  live, 
And  still  mine  own  despite  Time's  winnowing. 
Ever  mine  own,  while  moons  and  seasons  bring 

From  crudeness  ripeness  mellow  and  sanative : 

Ever  mine  own,  till  Death  shall  ply  his  sieve ; 
And  still  mine  own,  when  saints  break  grave  and  sing. 
And  this  myself  as  king  unto  my  King 

I  give  to  Him  who  gave  Himself  for  me ; 
Who  gives  Himself  to  me,  and  bids  me  sing 

A  sweet  new  song  of  His  redeemed  set  free  ; 
He  bids  me  sing:  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting? 

And  sing :  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ? 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 
[188] 


ALFRED    TENNYSON 
1809-1892 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF   JULY 


JULY   FIRST. 

HOW  drowsy  and  dreamy  is  July  !  Bees  hum,  and 
flies  buzz,  and  insects  chirp  in  the  grasses.  The 
air  is  still  and  languid,  disturbed  now  and  then  by  the 
soft  flutter  of  butterflies'  wings,  flitting  from  flower  to 
flower,  or  the  quick  whirring  of  a  summer  bird.  The 
lark  goes,  singing,  upward  from  her  lowly  nest  among 
the  grasses,  and  the  cuckoo  sends  forth  happy  notes 
from  out  the  leafy  shade.  The  sea  murmurs  along  the 
shore,  and  the  dewy  freshness  of  the  morning  melts 
into  the  heart  of  noon  when  all  is  sunshine  and  drowsi- 
ness and  stillness.  On  the  valleys  rests  the  midday 
hush,  and  man  ceases  his  labor  to  refresh  himself  from 
the  cool,  sweet  waters  that  lie  in  the  shadow  of  the 
wayside  well.  July  is  the  midsummer  season,  —  the 
noontide  of  the  year.  A  beautiful  time  is  it  to  refresh 
ourselves  from  the  Fountain  of  God's  Love,  and  to 
drink  a  deep,  cooling  draught,  which,  if  we  drink,  we 
shall  never  thirst  again. 

July  has  come  !  the  meadow-lands 

In  verdure  stretch  away ; 
In  broad-brimmed  hat  the  mower  stands 

Knee-deep  amid  the  hay ; 
The  scent  of  clover  fills  the  air, 

While  sunflowers  gaily  nod, 
And  Nature's  children  sweetly  share 

The  joy  of  praising  God. 
[189] 


JULY   SECOND. 

MAY   your  life  be  an  example  of  sweet  humility, 
and,  like  the  modest  daisy,  "  the  eye  of  the  day," 
may  you  ever  be  a  white  star  of  purity  blooming  con- 
tentedly for  the  glory  of  God. 

There  is  a  flower,  a  little  flower 
With  silver  crest  and  golden  eye, 

That  welcomes  every  changing  hour, 
And  weathers  every  sky. 

On  waste  and  woodland,  rock  and  plain, 
Its  humble  buds  unheeded  rise  ; 

The  rose  has  but  a  summer-reign ; 
The  Daisy  never  dies ! 

MONTGOMERY. 

That  well  by  reason  men  it  call  may 
The  daisie  or  else  the  eye  of  the  day. 

CHAUCER. 

The  Daisy  blossoms  on  the  rocks, 

Amid  the  purple  heath  ; 
It  blossoms  on  the  river's  banks, 

That  thrids  the  glens  beneath  ; 
The  eagle,  at  his  pride  of  place, 

Beholds  it  by  his  nest, 
And  in  the  mead,  it  cushions  soft 

The  lark's  descending  breast. 

MOIR. 

Daisies  infinite 

Uplift  in  praise  their  little  glowing  hands, 
O'er  every  hill  that  under  Heaven  expands. 

EBENEZER   ELLIOTT. 
[190] 


JULY  THIRD. 

HIGH  Thoughts !    They  come  and  go 
Like  the  soft  breathings  of  a  listening  maiden, 
While  round  me  flow 
The  winds,  from  woods  and  fields  with  gladness 

laden : 

When  the  corn's  rustle  on  the  earth  doth  come  — 
When  the  eve's  beetle  sounds  its  drowsy  hum  — 
When  the  stars,  dewdrops  of  the  summer  sky, 
Watch  over  all  with  soft  and  loving  eye  — 
While  the  leaves  quiver  by  the  lone  river, 
And  the  quiet  heart 

From  depths  doth  call  and  garners  all  — 
Earth  grows  a  shadow 

Forgotten  whole, 
And  Heaven  lives 
In  the  blessed  soul! 

High  thoughts!    They  visit  us 

In  moments  when  the  soul  is  dim  and  darkened ; 
They  come  to  bless, 

After  the  vanities  to  which  we  hearkened : 
When  weariness  hath  come  upon  the  spirit  — 
(Those  hours  of  darkness  which  we  all  inherit)  — 
Bursts  there  not  through  a  glint  of  warm  sunshine, 
A  winged  thought,  which  bids  us  not  repine? 
In  joy  and  gladness,  in  mirth  and  sadness, 
Come  signs  and  tokens ; 

Life's  angel  brings,  upon  its  wings 
Those  bright  communings 

The  soul  doth  keep  — 
Those  thoughts  of  Heaven 
So  pure  and  deep ! 

ROBERT  NICHOLL. 
[191] 


JULY   FOURTH. 

Osing  unto  the  Lord  a  new  song;   sing  unto  the 
Lord,  all  the  earth. 

Sing  unto  the  Lord,  bless  his  name ;  shew  forth 
his  salvation  from  day  to  day. 

Declare  his  wonders  among  all  people.  For  the 
Lord  is  great  and  greatly  to  be  praised. — PSALM  96: 
1-4. 

All  hail,  light  of  day! 

Thy  sweet  gushing  ray 
Pours  down  its  soft  warmth  over  pasture  and  field ; 

With  hues  silver-tinged 

The  meadows  are  fringed, 
And  numberless  suns  in  the  dewdrop  reveal'd. 

SCHILLER. 

As  a  bird  in  meadows  fair 

Or  in  lonely  forest  sings 
Till  it  fills  the  summer  air, 

And  the  greenwood  sweetly  rings, 
So  my  heart  to  Thee  would  raise, 
O  my  God,  its  song  of  praise, 
That  the  gloom  of  night  is  o'er, 
And  I  see  the  sun  once  more. 

If  Thou,  Sun  of  Love,  arise, 

All  my  heart  with  joy  is  stirred, 
And  to  greet  Thee  upward  flies, 

Gladsome  as  yon  little  bird. 
Shine  Thou  in  me  clear  and  bright 
Till  I  learn  to  praise  Thee  right : 
Guide  me  in  the  narrow  way, 
Let  me  ne'er  in  darkness  stray. 

FROM   THE   GERMAN. 
[192] 


JULY  FIFTH. 

IT  is  the  secret  sympathy, 
The  silver  link,  the  silken  tie, 
Which  heart  to  heart,  and  mind  to  mind, 
In  body  and  in  soul  can  bind. 

SCOTT. 

Our  Father  was  very  kind  when  He  implanted  within 
us  the  feeling  which  we  call  sympathy.  We  have  need 
for  a  great  deal  of  it  in  this  world  :  not  a  day  goes  by 
but  some  friend,  or  passing  acquaintance,  or  stranger, 
draws  upon  our  fund  of  sympathy ;  and  I  trust  we  have 
all  a  goodly  sum  in  reserve,  enough  to  last  us  the  rest 
of  our  natural  life.  What  various  appeals  there  are 
to  us  !  Sometimes  it  is  poverty,  or  distress,  or  sorrow, 
or  disgrace,  or  affliction,  or  losses,  or  severe  illness  and 
intense  suffering,  or  cruel  injustice,  or  false  accusations, 

—  all  of  these  call  forth  our  sincere  sympathy,  and  fill 
us  with  the  longing  to  comfort  and  relieve  those  who 
are  troubled  and  distressed.     Let  us  keep  our  hearts 
warm  and  tender,  that  they  may  beat  kindly  towards 
all  humanity. 

The  craving  for  sympathy  is  the  common  boundary- 
line  between  joy  and  sorrow. — j.  c.  AND  A.  w.  HARE. 

Sympathy  is  especially  a  Christian's  duty.  —  SPURGEON. 

As  the  human  countenance  smiles  on  those  that 
smile,  so  does  it  sympathise  with  those  that  weep. 

—  SMART. 

I  live  not  in  myself,  but  I  become 
Portion  of  that  around  me. 

BYRON. 

[193] 


I 


JULY   SIXTH. 

A  DAY  OF  CONSECRATION. 

WOULD  rather  be  what  God  chose  to  make  me 
than  the  most  glorious  creature  I  could  think  of. 
For  to  have  been  thought  about  —  born  in  God's 
thoughts,  and  then  made  by  God,  is  the  dearest, 
grandest,  most  precious  thing  in  all  thinking.  —  GEORGE 

MACDONALD. 

Take  my  life,  and  let  it  be 
Consecrated,  Lord,  to  Thee ; 

Take  my  hands,  and  let  them  move 
At  the  impulse  of  Thy  love. 

Take  my  voice,  and  let  me  sing 
Always,  only,  for  my  King. 

Take  my  silver  and  my  gold, 
Not  a  mite  would  I  withhold ; 

Take  my  moments  and  my  days, 
Let  them  flow  in  ceaseless  praise. 

Take  my  will,  and  make  it  Thine, 
It  shall  be  no  longer  mine ; 

Take  my  heart,  it  is  Thine  own, 
It  shall  be  Thy  royal  throne. 

FRANCES  RIDLEY   HAVERGAL. 

Withhold  not  from  God  His  just  due.     Talent,  time, 
wealth,  and  all  that  thou  hast  are  His,  but  given  into 
thy  keeping  to  improve  and  use  for  His  glory.     See 
that  thou  payest  thy  debt  with  interest  J 
[194] 


JULY   SEVENTH. 

OF  all  inorganic  substances,  acting  in  their  own 
proper  nature,  and  without  assistance  or  combi- 
nation, water  is  the  most  wonderful.  If  we  think  of  it 
as  the  source  of  all  changefulness  and  beauty  which 
we  have  seen  in  clouds;  then  as  the  instrument  by 
which  the  earth  we  have  contemplated  was  modelled 
into  symmetry,  and  its  crags  chiselled  into  grace  ;  then 
as,  in  the  form  of  snow,  it  robes  the  mountains  it  has 
made  with  that  transcendent  light  which  we  could  not 
have  conceived  if  we  had  not  seen ;  then  as  it  exists  in 
the  foam  of  the  torrent,  —  in  the  iris  which  spans  it,  in 
the  morning  mist  which  rises  from  it,  in  the  deep  crys- 
talline pools  which  mirror  its  hanging  shore,  in  the 
broad  lake  and  glancing  river ;  finally,  in  that  which  is 
to  all  human  minds  the  best  emblem  of  unwearied, 
unconquerable  power,  —  the  wild,  various,  fantastic, 
tameless  unity  of  the  sea ;  what  shall  we  compare  to 
this  mighty,  this  universal  element,  for  glory  and  for 
beauty?  or  how  shall  we  follow  its  eternal  changeful- 
ness  of  feeling?  It  is  like  trying  to  paint  a  soul. — 

RUSKIN. 

Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean  —  roll! 

Thou  glorious  mirror,  where  the  Almighty's  form 

Glasses  itself  in  tempests  ;  in  all  time, 

Calm  or  convuls'd  .  .  . 

.  .  .  boundless,  endless,  and  sublime  — 

The  image  of  eternity. 

BYRON. 

Launch  your  soul  on  the  ocean  of  God's  love  ;  and 
in  His  own  time  you  shall  reach  His  Harbor  of  Perfect 
Peace. 

[195] 


JULY   EIGHTH. 

LET    your  motto  be  "Onward   and  upward,"  no 
matter  what  obstacles  you  may  meet.    Per  aspera 
ad  astra.     Keep  on  climbing  higher. 

Rest  is  not  quitting 

This  busy  career ; 
Rest  is  the  fitting 

Of  self  to  its  sphere. 

'Tis  loving  and  serving 

The  highest  and  best ; 
'Tis  onward,  unswerving, 

And  this  is  true  rest. 

GOETHE. 

Catch,  then,  O  catch  the  transient  hour ; 

Improve  each  moment  as  it  flies ; 
Life's  a  short  summer,  man  a  flower ; 

He  dies,  —  alas!  how  soon  he  dies! 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON. 

Seek'st  thou  the  highest,  the  greatest?     In   that   the 

plant  can  instruct  thee ; 
What  it  unwittingly  is,  be  thou  of  thine  own  free  will! 

SCHILLER. 

Be  like  the  bird,  that,  halting  in  her  flight 

Awhile  on  boughs  too  slight, 
Feels  them  give  way  beneath  her  and  yet  sings, 

Knowing  that  she  hath  wings. 

VICTOR   HUGO. 

Great  souls, 
By  nature  half  divine,  soar  to  the  stars. 

NICHOLAS    ROWE. 

[196] 


H 


JULY  NINTH. 
OW  far  the  little  candle  throws  its  beams! 

SHAKESPEARE. 


May  this  be  said  truly  of  us!  If  our  light  is  but 
small,  may  its  tiny  beams  shine  afar  into  the  paths  of 
others  and  help  them  to  avoid  the  pitfalls  of  tempta- 
tions and  evil.  Let  us  not  scorn  the  little  duties  and 
little  services,  but  however  humble  our  place,  and 
small  our  achievements,  let  us  make  it  tell  for  Eternity. 

Small  service  is  true  service  while  it  lasts : 
Of  humblest  friends ,  bright  creature,  scorn  not  one ; 

The  Daisy,  by  the  shadow  that  it  casts, 

Protects  the  lingering  dewdrop  from  the  sun. 

WORDSWORTH. 

To  me  the  meanest  flower  that  blows  can  give 
Thoughts  that  so  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears. 

WORDSWORTH. 

What  time  is  little  ?    To  the  sentinel 

That  hour  is  regal  when  he  mounts  on  guard. 

GEORGE   ELIOT. 

Exactness  in  little  duties  is  a  wonderful  source  of 
cheerfulness.  —  F.  w.  FABER. 

The  tasks,  the  joys  of  earth,  the  same  in  Heaven  will 

be; 
Only  the  little  brook  has  widened  to  a  sea. 

R.  C.  TRENCH. 

He  that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  is  faithful 
also  in  much.  —  LUKE  16:  10. 
[197] 


JULY   TENTH. 

IF  the  human  mind  is  rich,  it  will  generously  give  of 
its  abundance  to  others ;  if  it  is  steeped  in  the 
incense  of  sweet  thoughts,  it  will  yield  a  fragrance  to 
those  around  it.  The  mind  enriched  by  Heaven  is 
continually  getting  and  giving,  absorbing  and  radiat- 
ing, being  blessed  and  blessing  others. 

Mind's  command  o'er  mind, 
Spirit  o'er  spirit,  is  the  clear  effect 
And  natural  action  of  an  inward  gift, 
Given  by  God. 

BAILEY. 

Time  has  small  pow'r 

O'er  features  the  mind  moulds.     Roses  where 
They  once  have  bloom'd,  a  fragrance  leave  behind ; 
And  harmony  will  linger  on  the  wind ; 
And  suns  continue  to  light  up  the  air, 
When  set ;  and  music  from  the  broken  shrine 
Breathes,  it  is  said,  around  whose  altar-stone 
His  flower  the  votary  has  ceas'd  to  twine  :  — 
Types  of  the  beauty,  that  when  youth  is  gone, 
Breathes  from  the  soul  whose  brightness  mocks  decline. 

GEORGE  HILL. 

Mind,  despatch'd  upon  the  busy  toil, 
Should  range  where  Providence  hast  blessed  the  soil ; 
Visiting  every  flow'r  with  labour  meet, 
And  gathering  all  her  treasures,  sweet  by  sweet, 
She  should  imbue  the  tongue  with  what  she  sips, 
And  shed  the  balmy  blessings  on  the  lips, 
That  good  diffus'd  may  more  abundant  grow, 
And  speech  may  praise  the  pow'r  that  bids  it  flow. 

COWPER. 

[198] 


JULY   ELEVENTH. 

WHEN  God  at  first  made  man, 
Having  a  glass  of  blessings  standing  by, 
"  Let  us,"  said  He,  "  pour  on  him  all  we  can ; 
Let  the  world's  riches,  which  dispersed  lie, 
Contract  into  a  span." 

So  strength  first  made  a  way ; 

Then  beauty  flowed ;  then  wisdom,  honour,  pleasure ; 
When  almost  all  was  out,  God  made  a  stay ; 

Perceiving  that  alone,  of  all  His  treasures, 
Rest  in  the  bottom  lay. 

"  For  if  I  should,"  said  He, 

"  Bestow  this  jewel  on  my  creature, 
He  would  adore  my  gift  instead  of  Me, 

And  rest  in  nature,  not  the  God  of  nature  — 
So  both  should  losers  be. 

•'  Yet  let  him  keep  the  rest  — 

But  keep  them,  with  repining  restlessness  — 
Let  him  be  rich  and  weary ;  that,  at  least, 

If  goodness  lead  him  not,  yet  weariness 
May  toss  him  to  My  breast." 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 

There  is  no  perfect  rest  out  of  Christ.  Sleep  but 
soothes  us  for  a  time ;  change  of  scene  makes  our  life 
less  monotonous,  perhaps,  but  we  must  soon  return  to 
the  old  routine  and  feel  again  the  old  weariness  and 
restlessness.  It  is  the  humanity  in  us  seeking  a  greater 
Strength  to  lean  upon.  When  you  are  most  restless 
and  most  filled  with  the  realization  that  earth  cannot 
satisfy  you,  then,  you  may  depend  upon  it,  you  need  to 
get  closer  to  God,  and  to  rest  in  His  sheltering  arms. 


JULY   TWELFTH. 

TO  prove  that  we  have  goodness  within  us,  it  must 
blossom  into  deeds.  A  tree  that  yields  no  bloom 
and  bears  no  fruit,  of  what  use  is  it  ?  Even  the  sturdy 
pine  drops  its  beautiful,  symmetrical  cones,  and  the 
grand  old  oak  its  dainty  acorns,  —  proofs  that  each  not 
only  lends  shelter  and  grace  to  the  world,  but  that  it  is 
showering  down  its  treasures,  in  token  of  growth  and 
strength. 

It  is  a  kind  of  good  deed  to  say  well, 
And  yet  words  are  not  deeds. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


When  the  poor  and  hungry  are  about  you,  a  kind 
word  will  do  their  hearts  good,  but  it  will  not  feed 
their  bodies.  What  they  need  is  substantial  food,  and 
if  you  bestow  this  upon  them,  and  accompany  it  with 
kindness,  you  have  given  them  a  noble  blessing.  The 
sweetest  way  to  be  charitable  is  to  give  in  such  a  way 
that  it  is  not  recognized  as  charity  at  all.  "  Not 
grudgingly  or  of  necessity :  for  God  loveth  a  cheerful 
giver." 

There  is  some  soul  of  goodness  in  things  evil, 
Would  men  observingly  distil  it  out. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


The  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate 

Is  privileged  beyond  the  common  walk 

Of  virtuous  life,  quite  in  the  verge  of  Heaven. 

YOUNG. 

[200] 


JULY   THIRTEENTH. 

IN  your  occupations  try  to  possess  your  soul  in 
peace.  It  is  not  a  good  plan  to  be  in  haste  to 
perform  any  action  that  it  may  soon  be  over.  On  the 
contrary,  you  should  accustom  yourself  to  do  whatever 
you  have  to  do  with  tranquillity,  in  order  that  you  may 
retain  the  possession  of  yourself  and  of  settled  peace. 

—  MADAME   GUYON. 

One  lesson,  Nature,  let  me  learn  of  thee, 
One  lesson,  which  in  every  wind  is  blown, 
One  lesson  of  two  duties  kept  at  one, 
Though  the  loud  world  proclaim  their  unity  — 

Of  toil  unsever'd  from  tranquillity ! 
Of  labour,  that  in  lasting  fruit  outgrows 
Far  noisier  schemes,  accomplish'd  in  repose 
Too  great  for  haste,  too  high  for  rivalry ! 

Yes,  while  on  earth  a  thousand  discords  ring, 
Man's  senseless  uproar  mingling  with  his  toil, 
Still  do  they,  quiet  ministers,  move  on, 
Their  glorious  tasks  in  silence  perfecting! 
Still  working,  blaming  still  our  vain  turmoil, 
Labourers  that  shall  not  fail,  when  man  is  gone. 

MATTHEW  ARNOLD. 

In  Nature  all  work  is  quiet  work.  The  most  beauti- 
ful flower  that  ever  bloomed  unfolded  every  petal  in 
silence,  and  yet  how  many  hearts  it  cheered!  The 
largest  grain-field  that  ever  ripened  in  the  sunshine 
and  rain  reached  perfection  without  making  a  sound, 
and  yet  how  many  hungry  it  fed!  God  bless  the  silent 
workers,  and  make  you  one  of  them! 

[201] 


JULY   FOURTEENTH. 

LET  us  walk  among  the  lilies.     "As   the  Lily  is 
pure  and  spotless,  so  may  thy  life  be  ! "  and  may 
thy  soul  open  to  the  sunshine  of  God's  love,  and  bloom 
like  the  lilies  of  the  field,  —  clothed  in  the  beauty  of 
humility  and  the  whiteness  of  peace  ! 

The  Lily  is  all  in  white  like  a  saint. 

HOOD. 

The  lilies  say :  Behold  how  we 
Preach,  without  words,  of  purity. 

CHRISTINA  ROSSETTI. 

Very  whitely  still 

The  lilies  of  our  lives  may  reassure 
Their  blossoms  from  their  roots,  accessible 
Alone  to  heavenly  dews. 

E.  B.  BROWNING. 

"  Look  to  the  lilies  how  they  grow  ! " 
'Twas  thus  the  Saviour  said,  that  we, 

Even  in  the  simplest  flowers  that  blow, 
God's  ever-watchful  care  might  see. 

MOIR. 

"  Thou  wert  not,  Solomon  !  in  all  thy  glory, 
Array'd,"  the  lilies  cry,  "  in  robes  like  ours  " ; 

How  vain  your  grandeur  !     Ah,  how  transitory 
Are  human  flowers ! 

HORACE  SMITH. 

The   citron-tree   or  spicy  grove  for  me  would   never 

yield 
A  perfume  half  so  grateful  as  the  lilies  of  the  field. 

ELIZA   COOK. 

[202] 


I 


JULY   FIFTEENTH. 

rT  is  through  a  flower-strewn  way 
That  Thy  children  walk  to-day, 
O  God,  who  makest  the  Summer-time  so  beautiful  to 
see; 

And  the  sweetly  scented  air 
Bears  upward  many  a  prayer 

Of  loving,  happy  gratitude  from  the  sons  of  men  to 
Thee. 

O  God,  is  any  sad 

When  the  world  is  all  so  glad, 

And  Thou  hast  made  the  Summer  so  full  of  joy  and 
love? 

Are  there  tears  in  any  eyes 
That  look  upward  to  Thy  skies, 

When  the  earth  in  beauty  vieth  with  the  azure  space 
above  ? 

For  all  the  pain  and  sadness, 

Thou  canst  put  joy  and  gladness 
In  hearts  that  do  not  know  them  though  "the  corn 

and  wine  increase." 

Hush  Thou  the  care  and  strife  that  mar  our  human  life, 
And  give  to  every  troubled  one  some  share  of  love  and 

peace. 

All  things  own  Thy  control ; 
Make  Summer  in  the  soul, 
Whose  sobbings  spoil  with   dissonance   the   season's 

merry  chimes ; 

Thy  blessings  crowd  the  sod,  —  be  merciful,  O  God, 
And  give  to  every  child  of  Thine  the  joy  of  Summer- 
time. 

MARIANNE  FARNINGHAM. 
[203] 


JULY   SIXTEENTH. 

CAST  thy  bread  upon  the  waters:    for  thou  shalt 
find  it  after  many  days.  —  ECCLESIASTES  1 1 :  i . 

May  you  be  able  to  look  back  upon  this  day  in  after 
years,  and  remember  it  as  one  of  the  best  days  of  your 
life  !  As  one  who,  sitting  on  the  green  shore  of  some 
quiet  lake,  throws  a  handful  of  bread  to  the  pure  white 
swans  gliding  over  its  tranquil  surface,  so  may  you, 
this  July  day,  feed  some  sorrowing  spirit  with  crumbs 
of  comfort,  or  some  hungering  heart  with  the  manna 
of  Christian  love.  When  life's  winter  comes,  the  chan- 
nels will  be  all  frozen  over,  and  your  chances  lost 
forever. 

We  scatter  seeds  with  careless  hand, 
And  dream  we  ne'er  shall  see  them  more : 
But  for  a  thousand  years 
Their  fruit  appears, 
In  weeds  that  mar  the  land, 
Or  healthful  store. 

The  deeds  we  do,  the  words  we  say  — 
Into  still  air  they  seem  to  fleet, 
We  count  them  ever  past, 

But  they  shall  last ; 
In  the  dead-judgment  they 
And  we  shall  meet ! 

I  charge  thee  by  the  years  gone  by, 
For  the  love's  sake  of  brethren  dear ; 
Keep  thou  the  one  true  way 

In  work  and  play, 

Lest  in  the  world  their  cry 

Of  woe  thou  hear  ! 

JOHN  KEBLE. 
[204] 


JULY   SEVENTEENTH. 

TO  be  self-reliant,  thoroughly  independent,  and  to 
possess  the  knowledge  that  God  has  given  you  a 
special  place  in  this  world,  and  you  feel  that  you  are 
expected  to  fill  it ;  this,  and  to  be  endowed  with  the 
gift  of  perseverance,  is  a  fortune  which  is  worth  more 
to  you  than  an  inherited  earthly  kingdom.  The  mere 
possession  of  wealth  does  not  always  ensure  happiness  ; 
in  fact,  it  is  those  who  have  vast  possessions  who  have 
greatest  responsibilities,  and  who  consequently  bear 
the  heaviest  burdens.  Good  health  is  good  fortune. 
Sound  judgment,  common  sense,  a  cheerful  disposition, 
and  a  willingness  to  be  useful,  —  all  of  these  are  things 
which  adverse  winds  cannot  -blow  away,  and  which 
make  for  its  possessors  a  cause  for  daily  thanksgiving. 


To  catch  dame  Fortune's  golden  smile, 

Assiduous  wait  upon  her ; 
And  gather  gear  by  every  wile 

That's  justified  by  honour. 
Not  for  to  hide  it  in  a  hedge 

Nor  for  a  train  attendant ; 
But  for  the  glorious  privilege 

Of  being  independent. 

BURNS. 


Not  always  fall  of  leaf,  nor  ever  spring, 

Not  endless  night,  yet  not  eternal  day : 

The  saddest  birds  a  season  find  to  sing, 

The  roughest  storm  a  calm  may  soon  allay. 

Thus,  with  succeeding  turns,  God  tempereth  all, 

That  man  may  hope  to  rise,  yet  fear  to  fall. 

ROBERT   SOUTHWELL. 
[205] 


JULY   EIGHTEENTH. 

GOD  said,  "  Blessed  are  the  merciful :  for  they  shall 
obtain  mercy."  One  of  the  sweetest  and  gentlest 
virtues  is  Mercy  ;  patience,  charity,  love,  and  compassion 
are  all  blended  in  her,  and  when  she  smiles  Hatred  is 
melted  to  tears,  and  Cruelty  hides  his  face  for  shame. 
Be  merciful,  not  only  to  human  beings,  but  to  dumb 
animals,  who  look  to  you  for  protection  and  kindness. 
Without  mercy  you  cannot  claim  kinship  with  God, 
whose  great  warm  Heart  is  full  of  tender  compassion 
for  all  His  creatures. 

'Tis  mercy !  mercy ! 

The  mark  of  Heav'n  impress'd  on  human  kind, 
Mercy,  that  glads  the  world,  deals  joy  around ; 
Mercy  that  smooths  the  dreadful  brow  of  power, 
And  makes  dominion  light ;  mercy  that  saves, 
Binds  up  the  broken  heart,  and  heals  despair. 

ROWE. 

How  would  you  be, 

If  He,  which  is  the  top  of  judgment,  should 
But  judge  as  you  do?     Oh,  think  on  that ; 
And  mercy  then  will  breathe  within  your  lips, 
Like  man  new  made! 

SHAKESPEARE. 

O  mercy,  heavenly  born  !     Sweet  attribute ! 
Thou  great,  thou  best  prerogative  of  power ! 
Justice  may  guard  the  throne,  but  joined  with  thee, 
On  rocks  of  adamant,  it  stands  secure, 
And  braves  the  storm  beneath. 

WILLIAM    SOMERVILLE. 
[206] 


JULY   NINETEENTH. 

/CHRIST  be  with  you  to-morrow 

>^     In  pleasure  or  in  sorrow ; 
Christ  help  you  in  temptation 
And  every  tribulation ; 
Christ  strengthen  you  for  duty, 
Give  to  your  spirit  beauty, 
And  comfort  you  with  gladness 
For  every  hour  of  sadness  ; 
Christ  bid  His  angels  serve  you 
And  from  all  ill  preserve  you  ; 
Christ  make  you  pure  and  holy, 
Christ  keep  you  meek  and  lowly, 
Until  with  Him  in  heaven 
His  crowning  grace  be  given ; 
The  care  of  Christ  defend  you, 
The  love  of  Christ  befriend  you. 

MARIANNE  FARNINGHAM. 

Have  nothing  apart  from  Christ.  Let  Him  share  all 
things  with  you.  Plan  no  to-morrow  without  Him ; 
include  Him  in  your  joys,  and  ask  His  sympathy  in 
your  sorrows.  He  knows  exactly  what  you  need,  and 
knows  far  better  than  you  do  yourself.  Surely  with 
such  a  Guide  and  Friend  you  cannot  seek  to  do  your 
will,  and  to  walk  contrary  to  His  choice. 

Lead,  kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom, 

Lead  Thou  me  on ; 
The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home, 

Lead  Thou  me  on. 

Keep  Thou  my  feet ;  I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene  ;  one  step  enough  for  me. 

j.  H.  NEWMAN. 
[207] 


JULY  TWENTIETH. 

^H ROUGH  the  spirit  of  Divine  Love,  let  the  vio- 
-J-     lent,  obstinate  powers  of  thy  nature  be  quieted, 
the  hardness  of  thy  affections  be  softened,  and  thine 
intractable  self-will  be  subdued.  — G.  TERSTEEGEN. 

Only  thy  restless  heart  keep  still, 
And  wait  in  cheerful  hope ;  content 

To  take  whate'er  His  gracious  will, 
His  all-discerning  love,  hath  sent ; 

Nor  doubt  our  inmost  wants  are  known 
To  Him  who  chose  us  for  His  own. 

G.   NEUMARK. 

And  should  the  twilight  darken  into  night, 

And  sorrow  grow  to  anguish,  be  thou  strong ; 

Thou  art  in  God,  and  nothing  can  go  wrong 
Which  a  fresh  life-pulse  cannot  set  aright. 
That  thou  dost  know  the  darkness,  proves  the  light. 

Weep  if  thou  wilt,  but  weep  not  all  too  long ; 

Or  weep  and  work,  for  work  will  lead  to  song. 

GEORGE   MACDONALD. 

God  make  thee  able  to  endure  the  petty  trials  and 
cares  that  nag  and  fret  and  worry  thee  in  thine  earthly 
pilgrimage.  As  thou  goest,  step  by  step,  through  the 
journey  of  the  year,  mayst  thou  be  filled  with  inward 
gentleness  and  grace  of  spirit,  and  with  strength  to 
conquer  and  subdue  the  foes  without  and  within. 

Yet  still  the  light  of  righteousness  beams  pure, 
Beams  to  me  from  the  world  of  far-off  day ; 

Lord  who  hast  called  them  happy  that  endure, 
Lord,  make  me  such  as  they. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 
[208] 


JULY   TWENTY-FIRST. 

WE  cannot  honour  our  country  with  too  deep  a 
reverence  ;  we  cannot  love  her  with  an  affection 
too  pure  and   fervent ;   we  cannot  serve  her  with  an 
energy  of  purpose  or  a  faithfulness  of  zeal  too  stead- 
fast and  ardent.  —  GRIMKE. 

Our  country's  welfare  is  our  first  concern, 

And  who  promotes  that  best,  best  proves  his  duty. 

HAVARD. 

Give  me  the  death  of  those 

Who  for  their  country  die ; 
And  oh !  be  mine  like  their  repose, 

When  cold  and  low  they  lie : 
Their  loveliest  mother  earth 

Enshrines  the  fallen  brave ; 
In  their  sweet  lap  who  gave  them  birth, 

They  find  their  tranquil  grave. 

MONTGOMERY. 

A  people 

Who  cannot  find  in  their  own  proper  force 
Their  own  protection,  are  not  worth  saving. 

THOMSON. 

What  constitutes  a  state? 

Men  who  their  duties  know, 
But  know  their  rights,  and  knowing,  dare  maintain, 

Prevent  the  long-aimed  blow, 
And  crush  the  tyrant,  while  they  rend  the  chain  :  — 

These  constitute  a  state. 

SIR  WILLIAM  JONES. 
[209] 


JULY  TWENTY-SECOND. 

A  DAY  IN  THE  HAY-FIELDS. 

THE  sun  had  risen,  the  air  was  sweet, 
And  brightly  shone  the  dew, 
And  cheerful  sounds  and  busy  feet 

Pass'd  the  lone  meadows  through  ; 
And  waving  like  a  flowery  sea 

Of  gay  and  spiry  bloom, 
The  hay-fields  rippled  merrily 
In  beauty  and  perfume. 

I  saw  the  early  mowers  pass 

Along  the  pleasant  dell, 
And  rank  on  rank  the  shining  grass 

Around  them  quickly  fell ; 
I  looked,  and  far  and  wide  at  noon 

The  fallen  flowers  were  spread, 
And  all,  as  rose  the  evening  moon, 

Beneath  the  scythe  were  dead. 

"  All  flesh  is  grass,"  the  Scriptures  say, 

And  so  we  truly  find ; 
Cut  down,  as  in  a  Summer's  day, 

Are  all  of  human  kind  : 
Some,  while  the  morning  still  is  fair, 

Taken  in  earliest  prime  ; 
Some,  mid-day's  heat  and  burden  bear, 

But  all,  laid  low  in  time. 

JANE   TAYLOR. 

Whatever  life  may  be  to  us  now,  —  whether  a  bright, 
dreamy  day  in  the  hay-fields  among  ripening  grass  and 
blooming  flowers,  or  a  weary,  heated  season  of  toil  and 
care,  —  it  will  end  before  a  great  while,  and  we,  like  the 
hay,  shall  be  gathered  into  God's  great  Store-house. 
[210] 


JULY   TWENTY-THIRD. 

THERE  is  no  virtue  the  exercise  of  which,  even 
momentarily,  will  not  impress  a  new  fairness  upon 
the  features ;  neither  on  them  only,  but  on  the  whole 
body,  the  moral  and  intellectual  faculties  have  opera- 
tion, for  all  the  movements  and  gestures,  however 
slight,  are  different  in  their  modes  according  to  the 
mind  that  governs  them  —  and  on  the  gentleness  and 
decision  of  right  feeling  follows  grace  of  actions,  and, 
through  continuance  of  this,  grace  of  form.  —  j.  RUSKIN. 

Purity  of  thought  and  mind  leave  their  impress  on 
the  countenance.  A  face  may  be  beautiful  in  outline 
and  feature,  but  if  it  lacks  purity  and  modesty,  the 
chief  charm  is  wanting.  A  homely  face,  in  which  soul- 
beauty  is  revealed,  possesses  a  loveliness  which  will 
not  fade  with  the  youthful  bloom,  but  which  will  grow 
more  attractive  as  the  years  go  by,  and  in  old  age  will 
wear  the  outward  reflection  of  tranquillity  and  peace. 

May  it  be  said  of  you  that, 

Around  her  shone 

The  light  of  love,  the  purity  of  grace, 
The  mind,  the  music  breathing  from  her  face, 
The  heart  whose  softness  harmonized  the  whole, 
And,  oh  !  the  eye  was  in  itself  a  soul ! 

BYRON. 

And  that  your  soul  is 

Unstained  and  pure 
As  is  the  lily,  or  the  mountain  snow. 

THOMSON. 

Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart :  for  they  shall  see 
God.  —  MATTHEW  5  :  8. 

[211] 


JULY   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

T  ET  us  live  each  day  for  God ;  live  where  He  has 
-I— '  put  us,  with  an  eye  single  to  His  glory.  We  can, 
perhaps,  find  it  easy  to  be  charitable  for  God,  to  be 
kind  for  God,  to  be  useful  for  God,  but  how  do  we  feel 
about  enduring  for  God?  This  is  what  entire  conse- 
cration means,  —  not  the  willingness  to  serve  Him 
alone,  nor  the  readiness  to  die  a  martyr's  death  for  His 
cause;  but  to  live  for  Him,  to  endure  trials  and  perse- 
cutions, and  to  suffer  indignities  and  false  accusations  ; 
to  be  misjudged,  misrepresented,  and  to  go  bravely  on 
climbing  nearer  to  Heaven  every  day,  —  this  is  living 
for  God. 

I  hold  him  great  who  for  love's  sake, 
Can  give  with  generous,  earnest  will : 

Yet  he  who  takes  for  love's  sweet  sake 
I  think  I  hold  more  generous  still. 

I  bow  before  the  noble  mind 
That  freely  some  great  wrong  forgives ; 

Yet  nobler  is  the  one  forgiven 
Who  bears  the  burden  well  and  lives. 


Great  may  be  he  who  can  command 
And  rule  with  just  and  tender  sway ; 

Yet  is  diviner  wisdom  taught 
Better  by  him  who  can  obey. 

Blessed  are  they  who  die  for  God, 
And  earn  the  martyr's  crown  of  light ; 

Yet  he  who  lives  for  God  may  be 
A  greater  conqueror  in  His  sight. 

ADELAIDE   ANNE   PROCTER. 
[212] 


JULY   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

WHAT  different  ideas  people  have  of  what  life  is  ! 
Some  will  go  through  the  world  careless,  bright, 
and  happy,  and  at  its  close  may  still  insist  it  is  a  beau- 
tiful dream, — but  these  persons  are  very  few.  Most 
of  us  who  have  passed  through  our  childhood  and 
earlier  years  of  manhood  and  womanhood  have  come 
to  a  realization  of  life's  earnestness,  its  duties,  obli- 
gations, and  responsibilities.  But  because  we  have 
learned  to  read  its  prose,  we  do  not  lose  our  apprecia- 
tion of  its  poetry ;  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  we  under- 
stand it  better  and  love  it  all  the  more.  Life  would 
become  monotonous  if  our  days  were  all  sunshiny  ones. 
When  we  have  walked  for  a  while  in  the  glare  of  the 
light,  how  welcome  and  restful  is  the  shadow ;  and 
after  the  darkness,  how  gladly  we  step  out  into  the 
brightness  and  beauty  of  sunshine  once  more.  So  with 
life  :  its  smiles  are  sweeter  because  of  its  tears  ;  its  joys 
are  purer  because  of  its  sorrows.  Our  individual  views 
of  life  rest  a  great  deal  with  ourselves.  Look  at  it 
through  blue  glasses,  and  it  will  appear  gloomy  and 
dismal,  but  put  on  rose-colored  ones,  and  immediately 
all  things  are  tinted  with  a  warm,  roseate  hue  which  is 
beautiful  indeed. 

When  I  consider  life,  His  all  a  cheat. 
Yet,  fooled  with  hope,  men  favour  the  deceit ; 
Trust  on,  and  think  to-morrow  will  repay : 
To-morrow's  falser  than  the  former  day. 

DRYDEN. 

Life's  but  a  means  unto  an  end,  that  end, 
Beginning,  mean,  and  all  things  —  God. 

BAILEY. 


A 


JULY   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

NEW  commandment  give  I  unto  you,  that  ye 
love  one  another.  — JOHN  13  :  34. 

To  love  is  everything ;  love  is  God. 

LEON   GOZLAN. 

Love's  holy  flame  forever  burneth  ; 

From  Heaven  it  came,  to  Heaven  returneth, 

Too  oft  on  earth  a  troubled  guest, 

At  times  deceived,  at  times  opprest. 

It  here  is  tried  and  purified, 

Then  hath  in  Heaven  its  perfect  rest ; 

It  soweth  here  with  toil  and  care, 

But  the  harvest-time  of  love  is  there. 

SOUTHEY. 

True  love's  the  gift  which  God  has  given 
To  man  alone  beneath  the  heaven : 

It  is  the  secret  sympathy, 

The  silver  link,  the  silken  tie, 

Which  heart  to  heart,  and  mind  to  mind, 

In  body  and  in  soul  can  bind. 

SCOTT. 


Love  is  life's  end ;  an  end  but  never  ending ; 

All  joys,  all  sweets,  all  happiness  awarding ; 

Love  is  life's  wealth  (ne'er  spent  but  ever  spending), 

More  rich  by  giving,  taking  by  discarding : 

Ah  !    should'st  thou   live   but  once   love's  sweets  to 

prove, 

Thou  wilt  not  love  to  live,  unless  thou  live  to  love. 

SPENSER. 


JULY  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

E  life  that  I  now  live  in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  the 
faith  of  the  Son  of  God." 
That  is  not  all.  Much  as  my  future  includes  all 
those  elements  which  go  to  make  the  blessed  fabric  of 
earthly  life,  yet,  after  all,  what  the  summer  is  compared 
with  all  its  earthly  products  —  flowers,  and  leaves,  and 
grass  —  that  is  Christ  compared  with  all  the  products 
of  Christ  in  my  mind  and  in  my  soul.  All  the  flowers 
and  leaves  of  sympathy ;  all  the  twining  joys  that  come 
from  my  heart  as  a  Christian,  —  these  I  take  and  hold 
in  the  future,  but  they  are  to  me  what  the  flowers  and 
leaves  of  summer  are  compared  with  the  sun  that 
makes  the  summer.  Christ  is  the  Alpha  and  Omega, 
the  beginning  and  the  end  of  my  better  life.  —  PROF. 

HENRY   DRUMMOND. 

I  am  the  end  of  love ;  give  love  to  me. 
O  thou  that  sinnest,  grace  doth  more  abound 
Than  all  thy  sin  !     Sit  still  beneath  my  rood, 
And  count  the  droppings  of  my  victim-blood, 
And  seek  none  other  sound. 

E.  B.  BROWNING. 

Thou  hast  the  words  of  endless  life ; 
Thou  givest  victory  in  the  strife ; 
Thou  only  art  the  changeless  friend, 
On  whom  for  aye  we  may  depend  : 
In  life,  in  death,  alike  we  flee, 
O  Saviour  of  the  world,  to  thee. 

F.  R.  HAVERGAL. 

Christ,  first,  last,  and  always !  Let  us  lift  our  eyes  to 
Him  in  our  last  earthly  hours ;  and  in  our  first  glimpse 
of  Heaven,  He  shall  be  the  first  to  welcome  us  Home. 


JULY   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

HE  who  is  faithful  over  a  few  things  is  a  lord  over 
cities.     It  does  not  matter  whether  you  preach  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  or  teach  a  ragged  class,  so  you  be 

faithful. — GEORGE   MACDONALD. 

Never  delay 

To  do  the  duty  which  the  hour  brings, 
Whether  it  be  in  great  or  smaller  things, 

For  who  doth  know 
What  he  shall  do  the  coming  day? 

ANONYMOUS. 

Example  is  more  forcible  than  precept.  People  look 
at  me  six  days  in  the  week,  to  see  what  I  mean  on  the 
seventh.  —  CECIL. 

Cast  forth  thy  act,  thy  word,  into  the  ever-living, 
ever-working  universe.  It  is  a  seed-grain  that  cannot 
die ;  unnoticed  to-day,  it  will  be  found  flourishing  as  a 
banyan-grove,  perhaps,  alas  !  as  a  hemlock-forest  after 
a  thousand  years.  —  CARLYLE. 

Lord,  with  what  courage  and  delight 

I  do  each  thing, 
When  Thy  least  breath  sustains  my  wing  ! 

I  shine  and  move 

Like  those  above, 

And  with  much  gladness 

Quitting  sadness, 
Make  me  fair  days  of  every  night. 

HENRY  VAUGHAN. 

There  is  not  a  moment  without  some  duty.  —  CICERO. 
[216] 


JULY   TWENTY-NINTH. 

T)ERHAPS  this  is  the  very  day  in  which  you  want  to 
A  be  alone.  You  are  in  the  mood  to  enjoy  a  quiet 
ramble  in  the  woods,  or  to  steal  off  with  a  favorite 
book  and  shut  out  the  world  for  a  while.  Or,  it  may 
be,  you  have  a  sweet  dream-world  of  your  own,  where 
you  can  build  pretty  air-castles  out  of  the  clouds,  and 
where  your  ships  of  thoughts  can  go  sailing  about 
blown  by  innocent  little  gales  of  happiness.  Perhaps 
when  you  awakened  this  morning,  you  planned  to 
spend  this  warm  July  day  in  quiet,  peaceful  enjoyment, 
just  to  your  own  liking.  But  it  may  be  God  chose 
otherwise  for  you,  and  gave  you  the  better,  sweeter 
opportunity  of  doing  for  others.  "  For  even  Christ 
pleased  not  Himself,"  though  doubtless  He  needed  a 
season  of  rest  far  more  than  you ;  but  He  was  ever 
ministering  to  those  around  Him,  no  matter  how  weary 
He  was.  Thank  God  that  He  gave  you  the  chance  to 
do  some  sweet  service  for  Him. 


Be  kind  to  each  other  ! 

The  night's  coming  on ; 
When  friend  and  when  brother 

Perchance  may  be  gone  ! 
Then  'midst  our  dejection, 

How  sweet  to  have  earned 
The  blest  recollection 

Of  kindness  returned ! 

CHARLES  SWAIN. 


Kindness  by  secret  sympathy  is  tied  ; 
For  noble  souls  in  Nature  are  allied. 

DRYDEN. 

[217] 


JULY   THIRTIETH. 

LET  envy  have  no  place  in  your  thoughts  or  feel- 
ings. If  your  neighbor's  possessions  are  greater 
than  yours,  rejoice  that  he  has  so  much,  and  so  great 
an  opportunity  of  doing  good.  The  more  wealth  we 
have,  the  greater  our  responsibility  will  be,  and  if  not 
used  aright  we  are  better  off  if  we  have  less.  Do 
not  envy  your  neighbor  his  talent ;  it  may  prove  his 
downfall,  if  not  properly  valued  and  improved.  Do 
not  envy  him  his  position  or  fame ;  doubtless  he  would 
willingly  surrender  it  all  for  your  quiet,  retired  life,  and 
for  your  sweet,  untroubled  sleep.  He  is  perhaps  un- 
easy and  restless  even  in  his  dreams.  He  belongs  to 
the  public,  he  toils  for  the  public,  and  the  demands  of 
the  public  have  robbed  him  of  the  happiness  and  re- 
pose which  you  have  the  privilege  of  enjoying,  if  you 
will.  Fill  your  little  niche  as  God  intended;  if  He 
wants  you  to  be  rich  or  great,  you  will  be,  but  do  not 
spoil  your  life  by  continually  envying  some  one  else, 
and  wishing  you  could  have  their  gifts  or  goods.  If 
you  honor  your  calling,  God  will  honor  you,  and  in 
some  sweet,  unexpected  way  will  overrun  your  cup  with 
blessings. 

For  the  condition  of  envy,  is 

to  have 

Our  eyes  continually  fix'd  upon  another 

Man's  prosperity,  that  is,  his  chief  happiness, 
And  to  grieve  at  that. 

BEN  JONSON. 

For  envy  doth  invade 
Works  breathing  to  eternity,  and  cast 
Upon  the  fairest  piece  the  greatest  shade. 

CHARLES  ALEYN. 
[218] 


JULY   THIRTY-FIRST. 

/~"*ARRY  some  message  of  gladness  to-day.  Look 
V.*  at  the  birds ;  their  little  throats  are  swelling  with 
rapture.  They  are  telling  God's  love,  and  this  is  my 
message. 

Give  me  some  word  to  say  for  Thee, 
I  pray.     The  world  needs  charity, 
Its  sorrows  are  so  great  to  bear, 
And  men  bow  down  'neath  loads  of  care, 
Fain  would  I  bring  them  some  relief 
And  comfort  for  their  hours  of  grief. 
May  I  not  tell  them  something?     "  Go," 
A  voice  replied,  "  and  let  them  know 
Their  Father  loves  them." 

His  blessing  touches  every  head, 
He  knows  the  path  their  tired  feet  tread, 
He  pities  them  when  they  are  sad, 
It  is  His  good-will  makes  them  glad. 
Let  no  one  doubt  Him.     Every  child  — 
The  good,  the  bad,  the  meek,  the  mild  — 
Is  to  the  Father's  heart  most  dear ; 
He  sent  His  Son  to  bring  you  near 
Because  He  loves  you. 

Receive  the  good,  glad  news  again, 
O  heavy-laden  sons  of  men! 
Our  Father  will  your  burdens  bear, 
Our  Father  will  your  sorrows  share, 
Because  He  loves  you.     Cold  of  heart 
Are  you  to  others?    Do  your  part, 
And  thank  Him  thus.     To  your  heart  take 
Earth's  sad  ones,  for  your  Father's  sake  — 
Because  He  loves  you. 

MARIANNE   FARNINGHAM. 
[219] 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF   AUGUST 


AUGUST   FIRST. 

AUGUST  is  like  a  princess ;  she  wears  the  royal 
colors,  and  moves  with  stately  grace,  following 
close  on  the  steps  of  daisy-crowned,  sunny  July.  The 
gold  of  the  wheat,  the  purple  of  the  grape,  and  the 
scarlet  of  the  poppy  are  woven  in  the  folds  of  her 
flowing  robe,  and  emblazoned  on  her  royal  crest. 
When  she  comes,  the  corn-fields  wave  her  a  welcome. 

A  song  in  a  corn-field 

Where  corn  begins  to  fall, 

Where  reapers  are  reaping, 
Reaping  one,  reaping  all. 

Out  in  the  fields 

Summer  heat  gloweth, 
Out  in  the  fields 

Summer  wind  bloweth, 
Out  in  the  fields 

Summer  friend  showeth, 
Out  in  the  fields 

Summer  wheat  groweth : 
But  in  the  winter 

When  summer  heat  is  dead 
And  summer  wind  has  veered 

And  summer  friend  has  fled, 
Only  summer  wheat  remaineth, 

White  cakes  and  bread. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 
[220] 


GEORGE    ELIOT 
1819-1880 


o 


AUGUST   SECOND. 

IN  one  side  is  a  field  of  drooping  oats, 
Through  which  the  poppies  show  their  scarlet 
coats. 

KEATS. 

Find  me  next  a  poppy  posy. 

MOORE. 

We  are  slumbrous  poppies, 

Lord  of  Lethe  downs, 
Some  awake  and  some  asleep, 

Sleeping  in  our  crowns. 
What  perchance  our  dreams  may  know, 
Let  our  serious  beauty  show. 

Central  depth  of  purple, 

Leaves  more  bright  than  rose, 
Who  shall  tell  what  brightest  thought 

Out  of  darkest  grows  ? 
Who,  through  what  funereal  pain, 
Souls  to  love  and  peace  attain  ? 

LEIGH   HUNT. 

Let  but  my  scarlet  head  appear 
And  I  am  held  in  scorn ; 
Yet  juice  of  subtle  virtue  lies 
Within  my  cup  of  curious  dyes. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 

Gold  flashed  out  of  the  wheat-ear  brown, 
And  flame  from  the  poppy's  leaf. 

ELIZA  COOK. 

Pleasures  are  like  poppies  spread, 
You  seize  the  flow'r,  its  bloom  is  shed! 

BURNS. 
[221] 


AUGUST   THIRD. 

SOCRATES,  accounted  by  many  to  have  been  the 
wisest  man  who  has  ever  lived  since  the  time  of 
King  Solomon,  said :  — 

"  As  for  me,  all  I  know  is  that  I  know  nothing." 
Spurgeon,  one  of  our  ablest  divines,  said  :  — 
"  The   doorstep   to   the  temple   of   Wisdom    is    a 
knowledge  of  our  own  ignorance." 

What  a  lesson  for  us!  That  such  great  minds  as 
these  were  so  modest  and  unassuming  seems  marvel- 
lous, when  we  hear  many  who  are  intellectually  inferior 
to  them  boasting  of  their  fund  of  knowledge,  when- 
ever an  occasion  presents  itself.  I  believe  the  more 
we  learn,  the  deeper  realization  we  have  of  what  yet 
remains  to  be  learned. 

Wisdom  does  not  show  itself  so  much  in  precept  as 
in  life  —  in  a  firmness  of  mind  and  mastery  of  appetite. 
It  teaches  us  to  do,  as  well  as  to  talk ;  and  to  make 
our  actions  and  words  all  of  a  colour.  —  SENECA. 

When  swelling  buds  their  od'rous  foliage  shed, 
And  gently  harden  into  fruit,  the  wise 
Spare  not  the  little  offsprings,  if  they  grow 
Redundant. 

JOHN   PHILIPS. 

Tell  (if  you  can)  what  it  is  to  be  wise  ? 
'Tis  but  to  know  how  little  can  be  known. 
To  see  all  others'  faults,  and  feel  our  own. 

POPE. 

Knowledge  is  proud  that  he  has  learn 'd  so  much ; 
Wisdom  is  humble  that  he  knows  no  more. 

COWPER. 

[222] 


AUGUST   FOURTH. 

HHHE  wish  falls  often  on  my  heart,  that  I  may  learn 
J-     nothing  here  that  I  cannot  continue  in  the  other 
world ;  that  I  may  do  nothing  here  but  deeds  that  will 
bear  fruit  in  Heaven. — JEAN  PAUL  RICHTER. 

Up  and  away,  like  the  dew  of  the  morning, 
Soaring  from  earth  to  its  home  in  the  sun ; 

Thus  would  I  pass  from  the  earth  and  its  toiling, 
Only  remember'd  by  what  I  have  done. 

Shall  I  be  missed  if  another  succeed  me, 

Reaping  the  fields  I  in  Springtime  have  sown  ? 

No,  for  the  sower  may  pass  from  his  labours, 
Only  remember'd  by  what  he  has  done. 

Only  the  truth  that  in  life  I  have  spoken, 
Only  the  seed  that  on  earth  I  have  sown, 

These  shall  pass  onward  when  I  am  forgotten, 
Fruits  of  the  harvest,  and  what  I  have  done. 

Oh,  when  the  Saviour  shall  make  up  His  jewels, 
When  the  bright  crowns  of  rejoicing  are  won, 

Then  will  His  faithful  and  weary  disciples 
All  be  remember'd  by  what  they  have  done! 

H.    BONAR. 

I  will  go  forth  'mong  men,  not  mailed  in  scorn, 
But  in  the  armour  of  a  pure  intent ; 
Great  duties  are  before  me,  and  great  songs, 
And  whether  crowned  or  crownless  when  I  fall, 
It  matters  not,  so  as  God's  work  is  done. 

ALEXANDER   SMITH. 
[223] 


AUGUST   FIFTH. 

LORD  of  Earth!     Thy  bounteous  hand 
Well  this  glorious  frame  hath  planned ; 
Woods  that  wave,  and  hills  that  tower, 
Ocean  rolling  in  his  power, 
All  that  strikes  the  gaze  unsought, 
All  that  charms  the  lonely  thought ; 
Friendship,  gem  transcending  price; 
Love,  a  flower  of  Paradise ; 
Yet,  amid  this  scene  so  fair, 
Should  I  cease  Thy  smile  to  share, 
What  were  all  its  joys  to  me! 
Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee! 

Lord  of  Heaven!  beyond  our  sight 
Rolls  a  world  of  purer  light ; 

Oh,  that  scene  is  passing  fair! 
Yet  should'st  Thou  be  absent  there, 
What  were  all  its  joys  to  me! 
Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee! 

Lord  of  Earth  and  Heaven!  my  breast 
Seeks  in  Thee  its  only  rest! 
I  was  lost :  Thy  accents  mild 
Homeward  lured  Thy  wandering  child. 
I  was  blind :  Thy  healing  ray 
Charmed  the  long  eclipse  away. 
Source  of  every  joy  I  know, 
Solace  of  my  every  woe ; 
Yet  should  once  Thy  smile  divine 
Cease  upon  my  soul  to  shine, 
What  were  Heaven  or  earth  to  me ! 
Whom  have  I  in  Heaven  but  Thee! 

SIR  ROBERT   GRANT. 

[224] 


AUGUST   SIXTH. 

ALL  true  work  is  sacred;   in  all  true  work,  were 
it  but  true  hand-labour,  there  is  something  of 
divineness.  —  CARLYLE. 

Strike  and  struggle  ;  ever  strive, 

Labour  with  hand,  and  heart,  and  brain. 

Work  doth  more  than  genius  give ; 

He  who  faithfully  toils  doth  live ; 
'Tis  labour  that  doth  reign. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Blessed  is  he  who  hath  found  his  work ;  let  him  ask 
no  other  blessedness.  He  has  a  work,  a  life-purpose ; 
he  has  found  it  and  will  follow  it.  —  CARLYLE. 

Let  no  one  till  his  death 
Be  called  unhappy.     Measure  not  the  work 
Until  the  day's  out  and  the  labour  done. 

E.    B.    BROWNING. 

We  enjoy  ourselves  only  in  our  work,  our  doing; 
and  our  best  doing  is  our  best  enjoyment.  —  JACOBI. 

God  be  thank'd  that  the  dead  have  left  still 
Good  undone  for  the  living  to  do  — 

Still  some  aim  for  the  heart  and  the  will 
And  the  soul  for  a  man  to  pursue. 

OWEN   MEREDITH. 

In  every  rank,  or  great  or  small, 
'Tis  industry  supports  us  all. 

GAY. 

Nothing  is  impossible  to  industry.  —  PERIANDER  OF 
CORINTH. 

[225l 


AUGUST   SEVENTH. 

LET  us  have  patience ;  the  way  will  grow  brighter 
as  we  press  on.  Our  hearts  are  discouraged  to- 
day, but  they  will  be  lighter  to-morrow.  Our  feet  are 
tired  to-day,  but  they  will  rest  when  the  night  cometh. 
There  are  things  in  store  for  us  worth  waiting  for; 
let  us,  then,  not  be  too  eager  and  impatient,  but  let  us 
span  our  sky  with  the  rainbow  of  hope,  and  wait  God's 
time  for  the  fulfilment  of  our  heart's  desires.  For  the 
patient  soul,  He  has  in  reserve  His  dearest  blessings. 

If  only  we  strive  to  be  pure  and  true, 
To  each  of  us  all  there  will  come  an  hour 
When  the  tree  of  life  shall  burst  into  flower, 
And  rain  at  our  feet  the  glorious  dower 
Of  something  grander  than  ever  we  knew. 

ANONYMOUS. 

For  who  that  leans  on  His  right  arm 
Was  ever  yet  forsaken? 
What  righteous  cause  can  suffer  harm 
If  He  its  part  hath  taken  ? 

Though  wild  and  loud 

And  dark  the  cloud, 

Behind  its  folds 

His  hand  upholds 
The  calm  sky  of  to-morrow. 

God  give  us  grace 
Each  in  his  place 
To  bear  his  lot 
And  murmur  not, 
Endure  and  wait  and  labour. 

LUTHER. 

[226] 


AUGUST   EIGHTH. 

DID  you  ever  notice  how  a  child  skips  and  dances 
in  the  summer  sunshine  ?  Its  feet  seem  scarce  to 
touch  the  ground,  they  have  so  much  elasticity  in  them  ; 
its  face  is  a  mirror  of  happiness  ;  its  eyes  are  as  bright 
as  stars,  and  its  sweet  little  innocent  heart  seems  over- 
flowing with  gladness.  Life  is  like  a  beautiful  garden, 
—  all  flowers,  and  sunshine,  and  cooling  shadows,  with 
blue  sky  and  sailing  clouds  overhead ;  why  should  not 
the  child  rejoice?  More,  too,  the  joy  of  youth  is  in  the 
blithe  little  spirit,  and  it  trusts  in  and  loves  all  man- 
kind. It  knows  it  will  be  cared  for,  and  its  heart  is 
full  of  childish  faith ;  it  sees  no  clouds  in  the  sky  of 
the  future,  so  it  clasps  confidingly  the  hand  of  Hope, 
and  fears  no  ills  to  come.  Why  should  we  lose  our 
faith  and  hope?  God  cares  for  us.  Why  should  we 
lose  our  joy  in  His  sunshine  when  He  is  overhead? 
Why  should  we  leave  our  youth  behind  if  we  love  all 
mankind  ?  Ah,  it  is  the  lack  of  these  things  that  makes 
us  grow  old.  Keep  your  heart  young  with  trust  in 
God  and  man,  and  your  youth  will  never  die. 

Blest  hour  of  childhood!  then,  and  then  alone, 
Dance  we  the  revels  close  round  Pleasure's  throne, 
Quaff  the  bright  nectar  from  her  fountain-springs, 
And  laugh  beneath  the  rainbow  of  her  wings. 
O  time  of  promise,  hope,  and  innocence, 
Of  trust,  and  love,  and  happy  ignorance ! 

THOUGHTS  OF  A   RECLUSE. 

Life  went  a-Maying 
With  Nature,  Hope,  and  Poesy 
When  I  was  young! 

COLERIDGE. 

[227] 


L 


AUGUST   NINTH. 

ORD,  thou  knowest  all  things  :  thou  knowest  that 
I  love  thee.  —  JOHN  21 :  17. 

The  twilight  falls,  the  night  is  near, 

I  fold  my  work  away, 
And  kneel  to  One  who  bends  to  hear 

The  story  of  the  day. 

The  old,  old  story ;  yet  I  kneel 

To  tell  it  at  Thy  call ; 
And  cares  grow  lighter  as  I  feel 

That  Jesus  knows  it  all. 

Yes,  all !     The  morning  and  the  night, 

The  joy,  the  grief,  the  loss, 
The  roughened  path,  the  sunbeam  bright, 

The  hourly  thorn  and  cross. 

Thou  knowest  all  —  I  lean  my  head, 

My  weary  eyelids  close ; 
Content  and  glad  awhile  to  tread 

This  path,  since  Jesus  knows ! 

And  He  has  loved  me!     All  my  heart 

With  answering  love  is  stirred, 
And  every  anguished  pain  and  smart 

Finds  healing  in  the  Word. 

So  here  I  lay  me  down  to  rest, 

As  nightly  shadows  fall, 
And  lean,  confiding,  on  His  breast, 

Who  knows  and  pities  all! 

ANONYMOUS. 

[228] 


AUGUST   TENTH. 

npHAT  understanding  which  we  have  of  our  Creator, 
J-     and  of  His  works,  and  of  ourselves,  is  the  store- 
house of  all  wisdom. —  A.  BZOWSKI. 

I  know  no  evil  under  the  sun  so  great  as  the  abuse 
of  the  understanding,  and  yet  there  is  no  vice  more 
common.  —  STEELE. 

The  vigorous  mind  is  sympathetic  and  reflective. 
It  gathers  from  those  around  it  thoughts  similar  to  its 
own,  and  widens  and  deepens  its  channels  every  day. 

With  curious  art  the  brain,  too  finely  wrought, 
Preys  on  herself,  and  is  destroyed  by  thought! 
Constant  attention  wears  the  active  mind, 
Blots  out  her  pow'rs,  and  leaves  a  blank  behind. 

CHURCHILL. 

By  earth,  and  hell,  and  Heaven, 
The  shroud  of  souls  is  riven, 

Mind,  mind  alone, 
Is  light,  and  hope,  and  life,  and  power! 

EBENEZER   ELLIOTT. 

The  mind  within  me  panted  after  mind, 
The  spirit  sigh'd  to  meet  a  kindred  spirit, 
And  in  my  human  heart  there  was  a  void, 
Which  nothing  but  humanity  could  fill. 

MONTGOMERY. 

Recollect  every  day  the  things  seen,  heard,  or  read, 
which  make  any  addition  to  your  understanding. — 

WATTS. 

[229] 


AUGUST   ELEVENTH. 

LET  this  be  the  prayer  of  your  heart  to-day : 
Make  use  of  me,  dear  God,  in  the  way  which 
Thou  shalt  choose.  Thou  hast  made  all  things  for 
Thy  glory  and  the  good  of  humanity  ;  Thou  hast  a  mis- 
sion for  me,  even  me !  Give  me  a  heart  ready  for  willing 
service,  O  my  Father,  and  then  appoint  my  work. 

There  is  little  or  nothing  in  this  life  worth  living  for, 
but  we  can  all  of  us  go  forward  and  do  our  duty.  — 

WELLINGTON. 

Make  use  of  me,  my  God, 

Let  me  not  be  forgot, 
Let  not  Thy  child  be  cast  aside, 

One  whom  Thou  needest  not. 

Thou  usest  all  Thy  works, 
The  weakest  things  that  be ; 

Each  has  a  service  of  its  own, 
For  all  things  wait  on  Thee. 

Thou  usest  the  high  stars, 

The  tiny  drops  of  dew, 
The  giant  peak,  the  little  hill, 

My  God,  oh,  use  me  too! 

Thou  usest  tree  and  flow'r, 

The  river  vast  and  small ; 
The  eagle  great,  the  little  bird, 

That  sings  upon  the  wall. 

All  things  do  serve  Thee  here, 
All  creatures  great  and  small ; 

Make  use  of  me,  of  me,  my  God, 
The  weakest  of  them  all. 

H.   BONAR. 

[230] 


AUGUST  TWELFTH. 

is  not  a  leaf  or  a  blade  of  grass,  a  drop  of 
-A.  dew  or  a  ray  of  light,  that  hath  not  God  in  it. 
He  walks  among  the  hills,  and  leaves  behind  the  glory 
of  His  presence,  and  the  evidence  of  His  power.  He 
beautifies  the  rivers  and  seas  until  they  glisten  like 
burnished  silver,  laughing  in  His  sunlight,  and  smiling 
in  the  soft  radiance  of  His  stars.  He  ushers  in  the 
faint,  gray  dawn,  and  floods  the  east  with  sunrise ;  He 
measures  the  hours  of  day,  and  hushes  the  earth  to 
repose,  and  guards  it  while  it  is  wrapped  in  silence  and 
dreams.  Oh,  the  wonders  of  God!  how  divinely  and 
exquisitely  are  they  wrought ! 

Eternal  and  Omnipotent  unseen! 

Who  bad'st  the  world,  with  all  its  lives  complete, 

Start  from  the  void,  and  thrill  Thy  feet, 

Thee  I  adore,  with  reverence  serene. 

Here,  in  the  fields,  Thine  own  cathedral  meet, 

Built  of  thyself,  blue-roofd,  and  hung  with  green, 

Within  all  breathing  things,  in  concert  sweet, 

Organ'd  by  winds,  perpetual  hymns  repeat. 

HORACE  SMITH. 


O  God  of  Truth, 
Make  me  one  with  Thee  in  eternal   love.     Oft   I  am 

weary, 
Reading,  listening,  but  all  I  wish  and  long  for  is  in 

Thee. 

Then  silent  be  all  teachers,  hushed  be  all  creation  at 
the  sight  of  Thee : 

Speak  Thou  to  me  alone. 

THOMAS  X   KEMPIS. 

[231] 


AUGUST   THIRTEENTH. 

/CHRIST  is  the  Divine  Healer;  we  have  not  a 
^•^  spiritual  disease  beyond  His  reach.  Infinitely 
tender,  loving,  and  sympathetic,  He  invites  us  to  come 
to  Him  and  be  healed. 

In  His  death,  Christ  is  a  sacrifice,  satisfying  for  our 
sins ;  in  the  resurrection,  a  conqueror ;  in  the  ascen- 
sion, a  king;  in  the  intercession,  a  high  priest. — 

LUTHER. 

When  across  the  heart  deep  waves  of  sorrow 
Break,  as  on  a  dry  and  barren  shore, 

When  hope  glistens  with  no  bright  to-morrow, 
And  the  storms  seem  sweeping  evermore ; 

When  the  cup  of  every  earthly  gladness 
Bears  no  taste  of  the  life-giving  stream, 

And  high  hopes,  as  though  to  mock  our  sadness, 
Fade  and  die  as  in  some  fitful  dream ; 

Who  shall  hush  the  weary  spirit's  chiding? 

Who  the  aching  void  within  shall  fill? 
Who  shall  whisper  of  peace  abiding, 

And  each  surging  billow  calmly  still  ? 

Only  He  whose  wounded  heart  was  broken 
With  the  bitter  cross  and  thorny  crown, 

Whose  dear  love  glad  words  of  joy  had  spoken, 
Who  His  life  for  us  laid  meekly  down. 

Blessed  Healer!  all  our  burdens  lighten; 

Give  us  peace,  Thine  own  sweet  peace,  we  pray ; 
Keep  us  near  Thee  till  the  morn  shall  brighten, 

And  all  mists  and  shadows  flee  away. 

CANTERBURY   HYMNAL. 
[232] 


AUGUST   FOURTEENTH. 

GOD  pays  good  wages  for  good  work.  The  calm 
consciousness  of  doing  one's  best  is  worth  more 
than  dollars  and  cents,  though  we  may  be  greatly  in 
need  of  the  latter.  Yet  whatever  price  we  may  receive 
in  exchange  for  labor  is  unsatisfactory,  if  we  have  with 
it  no  inward  assurance  that  we  have  earned  it.  God 
sometimes  allows  us  to  have  the  discipline  of  waiting, 
but  He  knows  all  of  His  own  by  name,  and  when  the 
place  is  ready  for  us,  He  will  call  us,  and  we  have  only 
to  respond  promptly,  "  Lord,  here  am  I ;  send  me." 

Sum  up  at  night  what  thou  hast  done  by  day, 
And  in  the  morning  what  thou  hast  to  do. 
Dress  and  undress  thy  soul. 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 

Glory  of  warrior,  glory  of  orator,  glory  of  song, 

Paid  with  a  voice  flying  by  to  be  lost  on  an  endless 

sea; 
Glory   of  virtue,  to   fight,  to   struggle,   to   right    the 

wrong  — 
Nay,  but  she  aim'd  not  at  glory,  no  lover  of  glory 

she. 
Give  her  the  glory  of  going  on  and  still  to  be. 

The  wages  of  sin  is  death  ;   if  the  wages  of  virtue  be 

dust, 
Would  she  have  heart  to  endure  for  the  life  of  the 

worm  and  the  fly? 
She  desires  no  isles  of  the  blest,  no  quiet  seats  of 

the  just, 

To  rest  in  a  golden  grove,  or  bask  in  a  summer  sky ; 
Give  her  the  wages  of  going  on,  and  not  to  die. 

ALFRED   TENNYSON. 
[233] 


AUGUST   FIFTEENTH. 

A  GOOD  listener  is  a  rarity,  and  as  pleasing  as  rare. 
I  think  the  reason  there  are  so  few  good  listeners, 
is  because  we  do  not  exercise  patience  enough.  It 
requires  considerable  patience  and  self-denial  on  our 
part,  often,  to  sit  quietly,  giving  earnest  heed  to  words 
that  do  not  interest  or  concern  us  in  the  least.  But 
courtesy  demands  that  we  should  do  this  even  though 
it  may  prove  a  positive  infliction  on  our  good  nature. 
Let  us  be  careful  not  to  launch  into  that  dangerous 
topic  which  is  most  interesting  to  us,  but  less  so  to 
others,  —  ourselves.  To  be  continually  enumerating 
our  ailments,  and  losses,  and  crosses,  and  all  the  ills  we 
have  to  bear,  —  there  is  no  surer  way  of  wearying  a 
listener  than  this. 


It  is  a  secret  known  to  but  few,  yet  of  no  small  use  in 
the  conduct  of  life,  that  when  you  fall  into  a  man's 
conversation,  the  first  thing  you  should  consider  is, 
whether  he  has  a  greater  inclination  to  hear  you,  or  that 
you  should  hear  him.  —  STEELE. 


But  'tis  a  task  indeed  to  learn  —  to  hear ; 

In  that  the  skill  of  conversation  lies  ; 

That  shows  or  makes  you  both  polite  and  wise. 

YOUNG. 


Nor  did  we  fail  to  see  within  ourselves 
What  need  there  is  to  be  reserved  in  speech, 
And  temper  all  our  thoughts  with  charity. 

WORDSWORTH. 
[234] 


AUGUST   SIXTEENTH. 

TO  what  various  things  has  the  world  been  likened ! 
Hear  some  of  them  :  — 

The  true  sovereign  of  the  world,  who  moulds  the 
world  like  soft  wax,  according  to  his  pleasure,  is  he 
who  lovingly  sees  into  the  world.  —  CARLYLE. 

Beautiful! 

How  beautiful  is  this  visible  world, 
How  glorious  in  its  action  and  itself! 

BYRON. 

This  world  is  all  a  fleeting  show, 

For  man's  illusion  given ; 
The  smiles  of  Joy,  the  tears  of  Woe, 
Deceitful  shine,  deceitful  flow  — 

There's  nothing  true  but  Heaven! 

THOMAS  MOORE. 

The  world  is  like  a  bride  superbly  dressed :  — 
Who  weds  her  for  dowry  must  pay  for  his  soul. 

HAFIZ. 

The  world  is  a  comedy  to  those  who  think,  a  tragedy 
to  those  who  feel.  —  WALPOLE. 

The  world's  a  theatre,  the  earth  a  stage, 
Which  God  and  Nature  do  with  actors  fill. 

HEYWOOD. 

Such  is  the  world.     Understand  it,  despise  it,  love 
it ;  cheerfully  hold  on  thy  way  through  it,  with  thy  eye 
on  highest  loadstars!  —  CARLYLE. 
[235] 


AUGUST   SEVENTEENTH. 

D  is  the  rock  of  my  heart  and  my  portion  for- 
ever."  Can  you  say  this?  Can  you  say  that 
your  hope,  your  faith,  your  trust  is  established  on  the 
Rock  of  Ages,  and  that  the  Lord  is  your  portion  for- 
ever? If  so,  you  need  have  no  fears  for  the  future.  If 
you  have  made  your  peace  with  Him,  He  will  abide  with 
you,  your  ever-present,  loving  Guest,  His  smile  reflect- 
ing itself  in  your  spirit  and  filling  you  with  a  sweet  gra- 
ciousness  that  will  make  you  welcome  wherever  you  go. 
If  you  trust  Him  fully  and  completely,  and  give  your 
life  into  His  keeping,  you  can  tell  others  how  precious 
He  is.  O  blessed  Rock  of  Ages,  be  Thou  the  strength 
and  the  stay  of  those  who  trust  in  Thee! 

He  taught  my  heart  to  trust  Him  fearlessly 

(Trust  oft  betrayed,  but  now  misplaced  no  more) ; 

My  Rock!  my  Rock!  my  wave-besieged  Rock! 
Safe  in  Thy  clefts  I  rest  forevermore. 

They  that  trust  in  the  Lord  shall  be  as  Mount  Zion, 
which  cannot  be  removed,  but  abideth  forever.  As 
the  mountains  are  round  about  Jerusalem,  so  the  Lord 
is  round  about  his  people  from  henceforth  even  for- 
ever.—  PSALM  125  :  i,  2. 

Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee  ; 
Let  the  water  and  the  blood 
From  Thy  riven  side  which  flowed 
Be  of  sin  the  double  cure, 
Save  from  wrath,  and  make  me  pure. 
Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee ! 

TOPLADY. 

[236] 


AUGUST   EIGHTEENTH. 

GOD,  who  is  liberal  in  all  His  other  gifts,  shows,  by 
the  wise  economy  of  His  providence,  how  circum- 
spect we  ought  to  be  in  the  management  of  our  time, 
for  He  never  gives  us  two  moments  together.  —  FENE- 

LOX. 

What  are  all  thy  boasted  treasures  ? 
Tender  sorrow,  transient  pleasures  ? 
Anxious  hopes,  and  jealous  fears, 
Laughing  hours,  and  mourning  years  ? 
Deck'd  with  brightest  tints  at  morn, 
At  twilight  with'ring  on  a  thorn ; 
Like  the  gentle  rose  of  spring, 
Chill'd  by  ev'ry  zephyr's  wing : 
Ah !  how  soon  its  colour  flies, 
Blushes,  trembles,  falls,  and  dies. 
What  is  youth  ?    A  smiling  sorrow, 
Blithe  to-day  and  sad  to-morrow ; 
Never  fix'd,  forever  ranging, 
Laughing,  weeping,  doating,  changing ; 
Wild,  capricious,  giddy,  vain, 
Cloy'd  with  pleasure,  nurs'd  with  pain ; 
Age  steals  on  with  wintry  face, 
Ev'ry  rapt'rous  hope  to  chase, 
Like  a  withered,  sapless  tree, 
Bow'd  to  chilling  fate's  decree  ; 
Stripp'd  of  all  its  foliage  gay, 
Drooping  at  the  close  of  day. 

MARY   ROBINSON. 

Gather  the  rosebuds  while  ye  may, 
Old  time  is  still  a-flying ; 
And  that  same  flower  that  blooms  to-day, 
To-morrow  shall  be  dying. 

HERRICK. 

[237] 


AUGUST   NINETEENTH. 

NATURAL  wit  is  as  sparkling  as  wine  ;  bottled  up 
in  the  brains  of  the  sage,  it  is  ready  to  effervesce 
at  the  first  opportunity.  It  takes  a  genius  to  manage 
it,  for  it  is  a  dangerous  thing  to  handle ;  keen  as  a 
lance,  it  cuts  deepest  in  the  hearts  that  best  know  how 
to  appreciate  it. 


A  jesfs  prosperity  lies  in  the  ear 

Of  him  that  hears  it,  never  in  the  tongue 

Of  him  that  makes  it. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


True  wit  is  everlasting,  like  the  sun, 

Which  though  sometimes  behind  a  cloud  retired, 

Breaks  out  again,  and  is  by  all  admir'd : 

A  flame  that  glows  amidst  conceptions  fit, 

E'en  something  of  divine,  and  more  than  wit, 

Itself  unseen,  yet  all  things  by  it  shown, 

Describing  all  men,  but  described  by  none. 

BUCKINGHAM. 


True  wit  is  like  the  brilliant  stone 

Dug  from  the  Indian  mine, 
Which  boasts  two  different  powers  in  one  — 

To  cut  as  well  as  shine. 

Genius,  like  that,  if  polished  right, 

With  the  same  gifts  abounds, 
Appears  at  once  both  keen  and  bright, 

And  sparkles  while  it  wounds. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[238] 


AUGUST   TWENTIETH. 

QTRENGTH  of  character  is  not  mere  strength  of 
^  feeling ;  it  is  the  resolute  restraint  of  strong  feel- 
ing. It  is  unyielding  resistance  to  whatever  would  dis- 
concert us  from  without  or  unsettle  us  from  within.  — 

DICKENS. 

A  beautiful  character  makes  a  beautiful  woman. 
Not  long  ago  I  heard  a  homely  woman  spoken  of  as 
"  beautiful " ;  I  looked  into  her  face,  and  saw  plain 
features,  and  was  disappointed.  But  a  closer  acquaint- 
ance gave  me  an  insight  to  her  character,  whose  true 
key-note  was  self-forgetfulness.  Soul-beauty  will  not 
fade,  for  God  has  stamped  it  with  eternal  youth. 

Age  cannot  wither  her,  nor  custom  stale 
Her  infinite  variety  :  other  women  cloy 
The  appetite  they  feed ;  but  she  makes  hungry, 
Where  most  she  satisfies. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Grace  was  in  all  her  steps,  Heav'n  in  her  eye, 
In  ev'ry  gesture  dignity  and  love. 

MILTON. 

She's  a  temple 

Sacred  by  birth,  and  built  by  hands  divine ; 
Her  soul's  the  deity  that  lodges  there ; 
Nor  is  the  pile  unworthy  of  the  god. 

DRYDEN. 

The  beautiful  are  never  desolate ; 
But  some  one  always  loves  them. 

BAILEV. 
[239] 


AUGUST  TWENTY-FIRST. 

T  TPWARD,  where  stars  are  burning, 
^-^   Silent,  silent  in  their  turning 

Round  the  never-changing  pole ; 
Upward,  where  the  sky  is  brightest, 
Upward,  where  the  blue  is  lightest, 

Lift  I  now  my  longing  soul ! 

Far  above  that  arch  of  gladness, 
Far  beyond  those  clouds  of  sadness, 

Are  the  many  mansions  fair ! 
Far  from  pain,  and  sin,  and  folly, 
In  that  palace  of  the  holy, 

I  would  find  my  mansion  there  ! 

Where  the  glory  brightly  dwelleth, 
Where  the  new  song  sweetly  swelleth, 

And  the  discord  never  comes  ; 
Where  life's  stream  is  ever  laving, 
And  the  palm  is  ever  waving  — 

That  must  be  the  home  of  homes ! 

Where  the  Lamb  on  high  is  seated, 
By  ten  thousand  voices  greeted, 

Lord  of  Lords  and  King  of  Kings! 
Son  of  Man,  they  crown,  they  crown  Him! 
Son  of  God,  they  own,  they  own  Him! 

With  His  name  the  palace  rings! 

Blessing,  honour,  without  measure, 
Heavenly  riches,  earthly  treasure, 

Lay  we  at  His  blessed  feet! 
Poor  the  praise  that  now  we  render ; 
Loud  shall  be  our  voices  yonder, 

When  before  His  throne  we  meet! 

H.    BONAR. 

[240] 


AUGUST    TWENTY-SECOND. 

CARRY  the  spirit  of  worship  with  you ;  a  simple 
uplifting  of  the  heart  to  God,  sometimes  in  the 
busy  thoroughfare,  and  sometimes  in  the  solitude  of  a 
walk  through  the  pathless  woods,  will  bring  us  nearer 
Heaven  than  to  sit  under  the  preaching  of  the  most 
learned  divine,  with  our  thoughts  on  things  around  us. 

Sacred  Religion!  mother  of  form  and  fear! 

How  gorgeously  dost  thou  sit  deck'd! 

What  pompous  vestures  do  we  make  thee  wear! 

What  stately  piles  we  prodigal  erect! 

How  sweet  perfum'd  art  thou,  how  shining  clear! 

How  solemnly  observed ;  with  what  respect ! 

Another  time  all  plain,  all  quite  threadbare : 

Thou  must  have  all  within,  and  nought  without ; 

Sit  poorly  without  light,  disrob'd  ;  no  care 

Of  outward  grace  t'  amuse  the  poor  devout. 

SAMUEL  DANIEL. 

Know, 

Without  a  star,  or  angel,  for  their  guide, 
Who  worship  God  shall  find  Him.     Humble  love, 
And  not  proud  reason,  keeps  the  door  of  Heaven : 
Love  finds  admission,  where  proud  science  fails. 

YOUNG. 

Love  never  fails  ;  though  knowledge  cease, 

Though  prophecies  decay, 
Love,  Christian  love,  shall  still  increase, 

Shall  still  extend  her  sway. 

WILLIAM   PETER. 

Religious  lustre  is,  by  native  innocence, 
Divinely  pure,  and  simple  from  all  arts. 

ROWE. 

[241] 


AUGUST  TWENTY-THIRD. 

A  DAY  of  sweet  confidences  !  Blossom  out,  O 
flowers!  send  upward  new  shoots,  and  down- 
ward new  roots,  and  whisper  to  God  how  thou  art 
growing  and  thriving  for  His  glory.  Dance  in  the 
August  sunshine,  O  streams!  flow  in  gladness  and 
brightness,  and  sing  to  Jehovah  a  song  of  rippling 
praise!  Tell  Him  thou  art  watering  the  dry,  parched 
land,  and  cooling  the  woodlands,  and  how  these  art 
His  messengers  all  the  day  long.  And  thou,  O  Heart ! 
what  hast  thou  to  say  of  thy  opportunity  and  thy  duty? 
Pour  into  His  ear  the  sweet  joys  of  the  day,  and  tell 
thy  dear  Lord  all  thy  perplexities.  Sit  at  His  feet  and 
rest ;  confide  in  Him,  for  thou  hast  His  messages  to 
bear  as  well  as  the  flowers  and  the  streams,  and  if  thou 
hast  nothing  to  tell  thy  King,  thou  hast  been  an 
unfaithful  servant. 


If  I  could  trust  mine  own  self  with  your  fate, 

Shall  I  not  rather  trust  it  in  God's  hand  ? 

Without  Whose  Will  one  lily  doth  not  stand, 
Nor  sparrow  fall  at  His  appointed  date ; 

Who  numbereth  the  innumerable  sand, 
Who  weighs  the  wind  and  water  with  a  weight, 
To  Whom  the  world  is  neither  small  nor  great, 

Whose  knowledge  foreknew  every  plan  we  planned. 
Searching  my  heart  for  all  that  touches  you, 
I  find  there  only  love  and  love's  good-will, 
Helpless  to  help  and  impotent  to  do, 

Of  understanding  dull,  of  sight  most  dim  ; 

And  therefore  I  commend  you  back  to  Him 
Whose  love  your  love's  capacity  can  fill. 

CHRISTINA  ROSSETTI. 
[242] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-FOURTH. 


thy  burden  on  the  Lord,  and  He  shall  sus- 
^-'  tain  thee." 

To  every  one  on  earth 
God  gives  a  burden  to  be  carried  down 
The  road  that  lies  between  the  cross  and  crown. 

No  lot  is  wholly  free ; 

He  giveth  one  to  thee. 

The  burden  is  God's  gift, 
And  it  will  make  the  bearer  calm  and  strong, 
Yet,  let  it  press  too  heavily  and  long, 

He  says,  Cast  it  on  Me, 

And  it  shall  easy  be. 

And  those  who  heed  His  voice, 
And  seek  to  give  it  back  in  trustful  prayer, 
Have  quiet  hearts  that  never  can  despair ; 

And  hopes  light  up  the  way 

Upon  the  darkest  day. 

Take  thou  thy  burden  thus 
Into  thy  hands,  and  lay  it  at  His  feet, 
And  whether  it  be  sorrow  or  defeat, 

Or  pain  or  sin  or  care, 

It  will  grow  lighter  there. 

It  is  the  lonely  load 
That  crushes  out  the  light  of  Heaven, 
But,  borne  with  Him,  the  soul,  restored,  forgiven, 
Sings  out  through  all  the  days 
Her  joy,  and  God's  high  praise. 

MARIANNE   FARNINGHAM. 

[243] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

I  HAVE  heard  people  say  they  do  not  like  poetry ; 
I  always  wonder  if  they  understand  what  it  means. 
Some  imagine  everything  which  rhymes  to  be  poetry, 
while  a  great  deal  of  it  is  not  poetry  at  all.  On  the 
other  hand,  some  of  the  finest  poems  ever  produced 
were  wholly  without  rhyme  or  measure.  It  is  the 
delicacy  of  thought  and  expression,  however  clothed, 
that  constitutes  real  poetry ;  if  you  have  nothing  in 
you  which  responds  to  poetic  sentiment,  you  cannot 
understand  it.  Just  as  well  try  to  explain  color  to  a 
blind  man.  It  seems  to  me  all  true  lovers  of  Nature 
are  fond  of  poetry,  for  God  has  written  it  on  all  of  His 
works. 

Poets  are  all  who  love,  who  feel  great  truths, 
And  tell  them  ;  and  the  tnith  of  truths  is  love. 

BAILEY. 

Poetry  is  the  breath  and  finer  spirit  of  all  knowledge  ; 
it  is  the  impassioned  expression  which  is  the  counte- 
nance of  all  science.  —  WORDSWORTH. 

That  which  moveth  the  heart  most  is  the  best  poetry ; 
it  comes  nearer  unto  God,  the  source  of  all  power.  — 

W.  S.  LANDOR. 

Poetry  is  the  record  of  all  the  best  and  happiest 
moments  of  the  happiest  and  best  minds.  — SHELLEY. 

A  drainless  renown 

Of  light  is  Poesy.     'Tis  the  supreme  power : 
The  might  half  slumbering  on  its  own  right  arm ! 

KEATS. 

[244] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

"DEMEMBER  us,  O  Lord,  at  all  times!  breathe 
•*- V  upon  us  Thy  Spirit,  and  accompany  us  through 
every  step  of  our  day's  journey.  Let  us  rely  upon 
Thee,  knowing  that  Thou  art  near ;  let  us  not  attempt 
to  walk  alone,  lest  we  stumble  and  fall ;  but  let  us  begin 
the  day  aright,  asking  Thy  guidance  as  soon  as  our 
eyes  unclose  to  the  light.  Let  us,  in  gratitude,  make 
preparation  for  the  new  day. 

While  flowers  are  wet  with  dews, 

Dew  of  our  souls,  descend ; 
Ere  yet  the  sun  the  day  renews, 

O  Lord,  Thy  spirit  send. 

Upon  the  battle-field, 

Before  the  fight  begins, 
We  seek,  O  Lord,  Thy  sheltering  shield, 

To  guard  us  from  our  sins. 

Ere  yet  our  vessel  sails 

Upon  the  stream  of  day, 
We  plead,  O  Lord,  for  heavenly  gales 

To  speed  us  on  our  way. 

On  the  lone  mountain  side, 

Before  the  morning's  light, 
The  Man  of  Sorrows  wept  and  cried, 

And  rose  refresh'd  with  might. 

Oh,  hear  us,  then,  for  we 

Are  very  weak  and  frail ; 
We  make  the  Saviour's  name  our  plea, 

And  surely  must  prevail. 

C.    H.    SPURGEON. 

[245] 


AUGUST  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

GOD  is  a  tranquil  Being,  and  abides  in  a  tranquil 
eternity.  So  must  thy  spirit  become  a  tranquil 
and  clear  little  pool,  wherein  the  serene  light  of  God 
can  be  mirrored.  Therefore  shun  all  that  is  disquiet- 
ing and  distracting,  both  within  and  without.  Noth- 
ing in  the  whole  world  is  worth  the  loss  of  thy  peace ; 
even  the  faults  which  thou  hast  committed  should  only 
humble,  but  not  disquiet  thee.  God  is  full  of  Joy, 
peace,  and  happiness.  —  G.  TERSTEEGEN. 

Well  may  Thy  happy  children  cease 
From  restless  wishes,  prone  to  sin, 

And,  in  Thy  own  exceeding  peace, 
Yield  to  Thy  daily  discipline. 

A.    L.   WARING. 

We  might  enjoy  much  peace,  if  we  would  not  busy 
ourselves  with  the  words  and  deeds  of  other  men,  and 
things  which  appertain  nothing  to  our  charge.  How 
can  he  abide  long  in  peace,  who  thrusteth  himself 
into  the  cares  of  others,  who  seeketh  occasion  abroad, 
who  little  or  seldom  cometh  to  himself  ?  Blessed  are 
the  single-hearted  ;  for  they  shall  enjoy  much  peace.  — 

THOMAS  A   KEMPIS. 

Place  on  the  Lord  reliance ; 

My  soul,  with  courage  wait ; 
His  truth  be  thine  affiance 

When  faint  and  desolate  ; 
His  might  thy  heart  shall  strengthen, 

His  love  thy  joy  increase  ; 
Mercy  thy  days  shall  lengthen  : 

The  Lord  will  give  thee  peace. 

MONTGOMERY. 
[246] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

TF  you  differ  with  people,  don't  allow  your  differences  to 
-•-  end  in  a  quarrel.  We  are  here  on  the  earth  for  such 
a  short  time,  let  us  spend  it  peaceably  together.  Some 
men  will  not  brook  opposition  ;  they  grow  irritable  and 
cross  if  they  are  contradicted ;  their  example  is  not 
a  desirable  one  to  follow.  You  can  see  how  disagree- 
able they  are,  —  would  you  wish  to  imitate  them? 
This  quarrelsome  sort  of  individuals  are  avoided  and 
disliked ;  but  they  are  really  to  be  pitied,  too,  for  they 
are  greatly  afflicted,  and  yet  do  not  realize  that  they 
possess  any  ailment.  A  crabbed,  self-conceited  man, 
who  becomes  angry  because  every  one  else  does  not 
respect  his  opinions  as  he  does,  makes  many  enemies, 
and  stirs  up  strife,  as  he  goes  through  the  world. 
Don't  allow  yourself  to  grow  like  him ;  live  at  peace 
with  all  men  ;  you  have  a  right  to  your  opinion  on  all 
subjects,  and  there  are  fitting  times  when  you  may  ex- 
press it,  but  shun  quarrelsome  debates,  —  they  only 
end  in  unkind  feelings.  Settle  differences  pleasantly, 
and  part  friendly  with  all  men. 


Let  not  opinion  make  thy  judgment  err ; 
The  evening  conquest  crowns  the  conqueror. 


I  could  never  divide  myself  from  any  man  upon  the 
difference  of  an  opinion,  or  be  angry  with  his  judg- 
ment for  not  agreeing  in  that  from  which  within  a  few 
days  I  might  dissent  myself.  —  SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE. 


Opinion  governs  all  mankind. 

SAMUEL  BUTLER. 
[247] 


AUGUST   TWENTY-NINTH. 

WHAT  treasure  are  you  laying  up  for  the  future  ? 
While  you  are  gathering  in  your  earthly  harvest, 
and  filling  your  granaries  with  all  your  ripened  store, 
what  are  you  giving  to  God  ?  What  you  give  to  the 
world,  in  mere  shallow  pleasures,  will  only  come  back 
to  you  as  chaff  thrown  to  the  winds.  May  your  har- 
vest for  Eternity  yield  a  goodly  increase,  and  your 
grain  ripen  for  the  glory  of  the  Lord  of  the  Harvest! 

Ripening  harvest  rustles  in  the  gale. 

Here,  midst  the  boldest  triumphs  of  her  worth, 
Nature  herself  invites  the  reapers  forth  ; 
And  every  cottage  from  the  plenteous  store 
Receives  a  burden  nightly  at  its  door. 
Eternal  Power!  from  whom  those  blessings  flow, 
Teach  me  still  more  to  wonder,  more  to  know  : 
Seed-time  and  harvest  let  me  see  again  ; 

And  let  me  ever,  midst  Thy  bounties,  raise 
A  humble  note  of  thankfulness  and  praise ! 

ROBERT  BLOOMFIELD. 

These  various  mercies  from  above 

Matured  the  swelling  grain  ; 
A  yellow  harvest  crowned  thy  love, 

And  plenty  fills  the  plain. 

Seed-time  and  harvest,  Lord,  alone, 

Thou  dost  on  man  bestow ; 
Let  him  not,  then,  forget  to  own 

From  whom  his  blessings  flow. 

ALICE   FLOWERDEW. 
[248] 


AUGUST   THIRTIETH. 

WE  must  not  be  too  much  influenced  by  what  the 
world  says  and  thinks  of  us,  but,  having  clear 
convictions  of  right  and  wrong,  ever  walk  in  the  divine 
light  of  God,  and  as  near  Heaven  as  we  can. 

How  happy  who  is  born  and  taught, 
That  serveth  not  another's  will ; 

Whose  armour  is  his  honest  thought, 
And  simple  truth  his  utmost  skill ; 

Whose  passions  not  his  masters  are, 
Whose  soul  is  still  prepared  for  death, 

Untied  unto  the  worldly  care 

Of  public  fame,  or  private  breath  ; 

Who  hath  his  life  from  rumours  freed, 
Whose  conscience  is  his  strong  retreat ; 

Whose  state  can  neither  flatterers  feed, 
Nor  ruin  make  oppressors  great ; 

Who  God  doth  late  and  early  pray, 
More  of  His  grace  and  gifts  to  lend ; 

And  entertains  the  harmless  day 
With  a  religious  book  or  friend ; 

This  man  is  freed  from  servile  bands 
Of  hope  to  rise,  or  fear  to  fall ; 

Lord  of  himself,  though  not  of  lands, 
And  having  nothing,  yet  hath  all. 

SIR   HENRY  WOTTON. 

Nothing  can  work  me  damage  except  myself;   the 
harm  that  I  sustain  I  carry  with  me,  and  never  am  a 
real  sufferer  but  by  my  own  fault.  —  ST.  BERNARD. 
[249] 


AUGUST  THIRTY-FIRST. 

THE  Summer  wanes,  and,  one  by  one,  the  long, 
warm  hours  melt  in  the  sun.  In  depths  of  shade 
the  ivy  creeps,  its  cool  green  leaves  laid  lovingly 
against  the  oak's  great  twisted  trunk ;  out-spreading 
till  each  friendly  bough  bears  clinging  tendrils  young 
and  new,  and  ivy  shoots  are  everywhere. 

O  Heart,  be  like  the  ivy  green!  send  forth  thy  tender 
leaves  of  hope ;  doubt  not,  though  'neath  the  shadows 
hid,  —  thou  still  shalt  keep  thy  gladsome  life,  and 
every  day  be  freshly  fed  by  fountains  from  a  Hand 
divine.  The  Summer  wanes ;  let  it  not  go,  until  thou 
givest  to  its  keep  some  gift  eternal  for  thy  God ;  some 
hallowed  thought,  some  treasure  rare,  some  truth,  dear 
Heart,  immortal,  pure,  like  Hope,  that  nevermore  shall 
die.  Thus  shall  thy  fadeless  ivy  twine  its  beauty 
round  the  oak  of  Time,  nor  wear  a  semblance  of  decay. 

Oh,  a  dainty  plant  is  the  ivy  green, 

That  creepeth  o'er  ruins  old ! 
Of  right  choice  food  are  his  meals,  I  ween, 

In  his  cell  so  lone  and  cold. 

Fast  he  stealeth  on,  though  he  wear  no  wings, 

And  a  staunch  old  heart  has  he! 
How  closely  he  twineth,  how  tight  he  clings 

To  his  friend,  the  huge  oak-tree! 

What  ages  have  fled,  and  their  works  decayed, 

And  nations  scattered  been  ; 
But  the  stout  old  ivy  shall  never  fade 
From  its  hale  and  hearty  green. 
Creeping  where  no  life  is  seen, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  ivy  green. 

CHARLES  DICKENS. 

[250] 


MATTHEW  ARNOLD 
1822-1888 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF  SEPTEMBER 


SEPTEMBER   FIRST. 

THE  leaves  take  on  their  first  faint  blush,  and  gold 
creeps  in  among  the  green  of  waving  grass  and 
rustling  corn.  The  skies  are  tinged  with  crimson 
streaks,  the  fruit  hangs  glowing  from  the  boughs.  The 
earth  is  bright  and  beautiful,  as  if  the  Lord  had  looked 
from  Heaven  and  bathed  it  in  His  smile.  I  stand  with 
you  this  wondrous  day,  and  look  with  you  before, 
behind,  and  see  the  glories  of  the  year,  outspread  in 
all  their  bloom  and  growth ;  with  you  I  cry,  "  How 
marvellous !  the  selfsame  Hand  hath  made  them  all ! " 
Behind,  the  waking,  shooting  bud,  the  sprouting  oak, 
the  stirring  sap  ;  the  long,  long  dreamy  Summer  days, 
the  tender  eves,  and  starlit  nights,  and  silent  growth 
of  grain  and  fruit.  Ah,  hush!  be  still,  and  hear  the 
song  all  Nature's  tuneful  voice  repeats :  — 

Sing  hey,  sing  hey!  the  Summer  days  are  dying! 
Across  the  hills  the  first  red  leaves  are  flying! 
O  Heart,  dear  Heart,  in  leaf,  and  fruit,  we  see 
Rich  stores  of  love  from  God  above, 
Dropped  down  from  every  tree! 

Sing  hey!  sing  hey!  let  joyful  songs  arise! 
Heaven  smiles  to-day  through  glad  September's 
eyes! 

May  your  soul  be  like  September  in  its  brightness, 
ripening  into  fruition  for  the  Eternal  Harvest ! 

[251] 


SEPTEMBER   SECOND. 

I  SEND  thee  pansies, 
Yellow  as  sunshine,  purple  as  the  night ; 
Flowers  of  remembrance,  ever  fondly  sung 

By  all  the  chiefest  of  the  Sons  of  Light ; 
And  if  in  recollection  lives  regret 

For  wasted  days  and  dreams  that  were  not  true, 
I  tell  thee  that  the  "  Pansy  freak'd  with  jet  " 

Is  still  the  hearts'-ease  that  the  poets  knew. 
Take  all  the  sweetness  of  a  gift  unsought, 
And  for  the  pansies  send  me  back  a  thought. 

SARAH   DOWDNEY. 

And  there  is  pansies,  that's  for  thoughts. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Here  they  grew, 

From  blue  to  deeper  blue,  in  midst  of  each 
A  golden  dazzle  like  a  glimmering  star, 
Each  broader,  bigger  than  a  silver  crown ; 
The  very  sunshine  loved  them,  and  would  lie 
Here  happy,  coming  early,  lingering  late, 
Because  they  were  so  fair. 

ROBERT  BUCHANAN. 

And  thou  so  rich  in  gentle  names,  appealing 

To  hearts  that  own  our  nature's  common  lot ; 
Thou,  styled  by  sportive  fancy's  better  feeling, 

"A  thought,"  "The  Heart's-ease,"  or  "Forget-me- 
not," 

.  .  .  With  humble  joy 
Proclaim  afresh,  by  castle  and  by  cot, 
Hopes  which  ought  not  like  things  of  time  to  cloy, 
And  feelings  Time  itself  shall  deepen,  not  destroy! 

BERNARD   BARTON. 
[252] 


SEPTEMBER   THIRD. 

LOVING  one  another  makes  better  Christians  of 
us ;  our  prayers  have  more  heart  in  them,  and  are 
more  acceptable  to  God,  because  we  love  our  fellow- 
men  and  want  them  to  share  God's  goodness  and 
mercies.  In  offering  up  a  petition  for  others,  we 
receive  a  double  portion  ourselves.  Our  Father  has 
some  choice  blessing  always  in  store  for  the  unselfish 
heart.  Love  makes  us  forgetful  of  self,  and  thought- 
ful of  others ;  love  enables  us  to  bear  crosses  and  to 
endure  losses  ;  love  is  the  loadstar  that  leads  us  to  the 
Better  Life ;  love  lifts  us  near  and  nearer  to  God. 

They  sin  who  tell  us  love  can  die ; 

Its  holy  flame  forever  burneth ; 

From  Heaven  it  came,  to  Heaven  returneth. 

SOUTHEY. 

He  prayeth  best  who  loveth  best 
All  things,  both  great  and  small ; 

For  the  dear  God  who  loveth  us, 
He  made  and  loveth  all. 

S.   T.   COLERIDGE. 

Mutual  love  the  token  be, 
Lord,  that  we  belong  to  Thee ; 
Love,  Thine  image,  love  impart ; 
Stamp  it  on  our  face  and  heart ; 
Only  love  to  us  be  given ; 
Lord,  we  ask  no  other  Heaven. 

c.  WESLEY. 

'Tis  Love  that  makes  the  heavens  shine 
With  hues  more  radiant,  more  divine, 
And  turns  dull  earth  to  Heaven. 

SCHILLER. 
[253] 


SEPTEMBER   FOURTH. 

THINK  not  thy  time  short  in  this  world,  since  the 
world  itself  is  not  long.     The  created  world  is 
but  a  small  parenthesis  in  eternity,  and  a  short  inter- 
position, for  a  time,  between  such  a  state  of  duration 
as  was  before  it  and  may  be  after  it.  —  SIR  THOMAS 

BROWNE. 

A  man's  time,  when  well  husbanded,  is  like  a  culti- 
vated field,  of  which  a  few  acres  produce  more  of  what 
is  useful  to  life  than  extensive  provinces,  even  of  the 
richest  soil,  when  overrun  with  weeds  and  brambles.  — 
HUME. 

Know  the  true  value  of  time;  snatch,  seize,  and 
enjoy  every  moment  of  it.  No  idleness,  no  laziness, 
no  procrastination ;  never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what 
you  can  do  to-day.  —  EARL  OF  CHESTERFIELD. 

Time,  as  he  passes  us,  has  a  dove's  wing, 
Unsoil'd,  and  swift,  and  of  a  silken  sound. 

COWPER. 

Even  such  is  Time,  that  takes  on  trust 
Our  youth,  our  joys,  our  all  we  have, 

And  pays  us,  but  with  age  and  dust ; 
Who  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave, 

When  we  have  wandered  all  our  ways, 

Shuts  up  the  story  of  our  days. 

SIR  WALTER   RALEIGH. 

Years  following  years,  steal  something  ev'ry  day ; 
At  least  they  steal  us  from  ourselves  away. 

POPE. 

[254] 


SEPTEMBER   FIFTH. 

ART  thou  grieving  that  the  Summer  has  flown,  and 
its  beauty  gone  forever?  Nay,  grieve  not  for 
that,  for  other  joyous  days  shall  dawn,  and  other  sea- 
sons bloom  again.  Then  rather  let  this  thought  be 
thine :  Have  I  improved  the  passing  hours  ?  have  I  to 
others  been  a  light  to  lead  them  upwards?  helped 
them  bear  a  burden  or  a  heavy  cross?  have  I  strown 
sunshine  round  my  path  and  given  other  hearts  de- 
light? Has  Christ  been  with  me  all  the  way,  through 
changing  seasons?  Without  Him  what  were  earth? 

...  So  shall 

All  loved  things  that  vanish  or  that  die 
Return  to  use  in  some  sweet  By-and-By  ! 

ANONYMOUS. 

How  tedious  and  tasteless  the  hours, 

When  Jesus  no  longer  I  see ! 
Sweet  prospects,  sweet  birds,  and  sweet  flowers 

Have  lost  all  their  sweetness  with  me ; 
The  midsummer  sun  shines  but  dim, 

The  fields  strive  in  vain  to  look  gay, 
But  when  I  am  happy  in  Him, 

December's  as  pleasant  as  May. 

His  name  yields  the  richest  perfume, 

And  sweeter  than  music  His  voice  ; 
His  presence  disperses  my  gloom, 

And  makes  all  within  me  rejoice ; 
I  would,  were  He  always  thus  nigh, 

Have  nothing  to  hope  or  to  fear ; 
No  mortal  so  happy  as  I,  — 

My  Summer  would  last  all  the  year. 

JOHN  NEWTON. 

[255] 


SEPTEMBER   SIXTH. 

BE  strong  of  heart!  love  on,  nor  let 
Thy  love  grow  faint,  if  thou  shouldst  find 
The  objects  of  thy  love  all  changed  — 

Unlovely  and  unkind ; 
For  love,  though  missing  sweet  returns, 
Makes  purer  hearts  in  which  it  burns. 

Be  strong  of  voice!  sing  on,  thy  song 
Though  void  of  grace,  and  rough  in  strain, 
,  May  touch  some  troubled  heart,  and  soothe 

Some  portion  of  its  pain  ; 
And  all  the  peace  thy  songs  impart 
Shall,  sometime,  drop  into  thy  heart. 

Be  strong  of  arm !  support  the  weak, 
From  weary  shoulders  lift  the  load, 
To  rest  a  moment's  space  ;  while  thou 

Walk'st  by  them,  up  life's  road, 
Be  glad,  as  thus  thou  toil'st  along, 
For  bearing  burdens  makes  us  strong. 

Be  strong  of  soul !  let  every  door 
Be  fast  against  the  foes  of  right ; 
And  let  its  walls  be  strong  as  truth, 

And  proof  against  unrighteous  might, 
And  let  thy  Saviour  hold  the  keys  ; 
Then  shalt  thou  surely  dwell  in  peace. 

ANONYMOUS. 

There  is  strength 

Deep  bedded  in  our  hearts,  of  which  we  reck 
But  little  till  the  shafts  of  Heaven  have  pierc'd 
Its  fragile  dwelling. 

FELICIA    HEMANS. 

[256] 


SEPTEMBER   SEVENTH. 

A  TEMPLE  there  has  been  upon  earth,  a  spiritual 
Temple,  made  up  of  living  stones  ;  a  Temple,  as 
I  may  say,  composed  of  souls  ;  a  Temple  with  God  for 
its  light,  and  Christ  for  its  high  priest ;  with  wings  of 
angels  for  its  arches,  with  saints  and  teachers  for  its 
pillars,  and  with  worshippers  for  its  pavement.  Where- 
ever  there  is  faith  and  love,  this  Temple  is. — j.  H. 

NEWMAN. 

Still  may  Thy  sweet  mercy  spread 

A  shady  arm  above  my  head, 

About  my  paths  ;  so  shall  I  find 

The  fair  centre  of  my  mind 

Thy  temple,  and  those  lovely  walls 

Bright  ever  with  a  beam  that  falls 

Fresh  from  the  pure  glance  of  Thine  eye, 

Lighting  to  eternity. 

R.    CRASHAW. 

Christ  is  our  Corner-stone, 

On  Him  alone  we  build ; 

With  His  true  saints  alone 

The  courts  of  Heaven  are  filled. 
On  His  great  love 
Our  hopes  we  place 
Of  present  grace 
And  joys  above. 

JOHN   CHANDLER. 

Thy  spirit  should  become,  while  yet  on  earth,  the 
perfect  throne  of  the  Divine  Being ;  think,  then,  how 
quiet,  how  gentle  and  pure,  how  reverent  thou  shouldst 

be.  —  GERHARD   TERSTEEGEN. 
[257] 


SEPTEMBER   EIGHTH. 

WE  are  sowing  here  what  we  are  to  reap  hereafter. 
Through  days  of  darkness,  nights  of  sorrow,  it 
may  be,  but  seed  will  lie  waiting  for  the  touch  of  the 
Master-hand  to  spring  into  growth.  Out  of  good  seed 
must  spring  good  grain :  first  the  sowing,  then  the 
silent  waiting,  and  in  His  time  the  golden  harvest. 

'Tis  first  the  true,  and  then  the  beautiful, 
Not  first  the  beautiful,  and  then  the  true ; 

First  the  wild  moor,  with  rock  and  reed  and  pool, 
Then  the  gay  garden,  rich  in  scent  and  hue. 

'Tis  first  the  good,  and  then  the  beautiful, 
Not  first  the  beautiful  and  then  the  good ; 

First  the  rough  seed,  sown  in  the  rougher  soil, 
Then  the  flower-blossom,  or  the  branching  wood. 

Not  first  the  glad,  and  then  the  sorrowful, 
But  first  the  sorrowful,  and  then  the  glad ; 

Tears  for  a  day  —  for  earth  of  tears  is  full, 
Then  we  forget  that  we  were  ever  sad. 

Not  first  the  bright,  and  after  that  the  dark, 
But  first  the  dark,  and  after  that  the  bright ; 

First  the  thick  cloud,  and  then  the  rainbow's  arc, 
First  the  dark  grave,  then  resurrection  light. 

'Tis  first  the  night  —  stern  night  of  storm  and  war ; 

Long  night  of  heavy  clouds  and  veiled  skies ; 
Then  the  fair  sparkle  of  the  morning  star, 

That  bids  the  saints  awake,  and  dawn  arise. 

HORATIUS   BONAR. 


SEPTEMBER   NINTH. 

QTRENGTH  of  Will  is  the  quality  most  needing 
^  cultivation  in  mankind.  Will  is  the  central  force 
which  gives  strength  and  greatness  to  character.  We 
overestimate  the  value  of  Talent,  because  it  dazzles  us  ; 
and  we  are  apt  to  underrate  the  importance  of  Will, 
because  its  works  are  less  shining.  Talent  gracefully 
adorns  life ;  but  it  is  Will  which  carries  us  victoriously 
through  the  struggle.  Intellect  is  the  torch  which 
lights  us  on  our  way ;  Will,  the  strong  arm  which 
rough-hews  the  path  for  us.  —  GEORGE  HENRY  LEWES. 

Talk  not  of  talents  ;  what  hast  thou  to  do  ? 
Thy  duty,  be  thy  portion  five  or  two. 
Talk  not  of  talents  ;  is  thy  duty  done  ? 
Thou  hadst  sufficient,  were  they  ten  to  one. 

MONTGOMERY. 

There  is  always  hope  in  a  man  that  actually  and 
honestly  works.  In  idleness  alone  is  there  perpetual 
despair.  —  CARLYLE. 

Do  not  fear  to  take  up  your  work,  if  God  has  shown 
you  what  it  is.  Come  to  a  decision  regarding  it — let 
it  be  your  determination  to  make  a  success  of  it,  using 
talents  and  your  will-power  both.  Do  not  rely  on  one 
without  the  other ;  each  has  its  place,  and  each  is  the 
gift  of  God.  If  you  are  too  self-willed,  let  it  be  your 
aim  to  conquer  and  control  this  fault.  Do  not  abuse 
your  will-power,  but  use  it  aright  and  let  it  be  subject 
to  the  divine  will  of  God. 

My  meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  me,  and 
to  finish  His  work.  —  JOHN  4 :  34. 
[259] 


SEPTEMBER   TENTH. 

nPAKE  life  like  a  man.  Take  it  just  as  though  it 
J.  was  —  as  it  is  —  an  earnest,  vital,  essential  affair. 
Take  it  just  as  though  you  personally  were  born  to  the 
task  of  performing  a  merry  part  in  it  —  as  though  the 
world  had  waited  for  your  coming.  Take  it  as  though 
it  was  a  grand  opportunity  to  do  and  to  achieve,  to 
carry  forward  great  and  good  schemes ;  to  help  and 
cheer  a  suffering,  weary,  it  may  be  heart-broken, 
brother.  The  fact  is,  life  is  undervalued  by  a  great 
majority  of  mankind.  It  is  not  made  half  as  much  of 
as  should  be  the  case.  Now  and  then  a  man  stands 
aside  from  the  crowd,  labours  earnestly,  steadfastly, 
confidently,  and  straightway  becomes  famous  for  wis- 
dom, intellect,  skill,  greatness  of  some  sort.  The 
world  wonders,  admires,  idolizes ;  and  yet  it  only 
illustrates  what  each  may  do  if  he  takes  hold  of  life 
with  a  purpose.  —  LONDON  JOURNAL. 

The  sweetest  lives  are  those  to  duty  wed, 

Whose  deeds,  both  great  and  small, 
Are  close-knit  strands  of  an  unbroken  thread 

Where  love  ennobles  all. 

The  world  may  sound  no  trumpets,  ring  no  bells, 
The  Book  of  Life  the  shining  record  tells. 

It  seems  so  childish  to  our  cultivated  intelligences 
to  say,  Love  God  and  love  one  another.  The  old 
prophets  babbled  that,  long  ago.  Yes,  and  the  proph- 
ets to  come  will  but  repeat  the  same  message  in  other 
forms.  Truth  always  comes,  as  Christ  came,  in  the 
garb  of  absolute  simplicity  .  .  .  Love  God  and  love 
one  another!  Is  that  all?  That  we  have  known  from 
our  youth  up.  Yet  is  there  nothing  else  to  say. 

RICHARD   LE   GALLIENNE. 
[260] 


SEPTEMBER   ELEVENTH. 

WE  all  have  our  faults,  and  peculiarities ;  we  are 
all  liable  to  make  mistakes,  and  do  things  we 
are  sorry  for.  Then  how  charitable  we  should  be  to 
others  when  they  do  as  we  have  done.  When  you 
blame  a  man  for  yielding  to  temptation,  do  you  ever 
try  to  bring  the  question  home  to  yourself:  What 
would  /  have  done  under  the  same  circumstances? 
When  you  hear  of  some  wrong  that  has  been  com- 
mitted, don't  judge  too  harshly  the  one  who  is  at  fault. 
What  would  you  do  if  you  were  in  his  place  ?  If  you 
had  not  the  sustaining  grace  of  God,  you  would  prob- 
ably be  no  better  than  he  is.  Therefore  be  considerate 
and  kindly  towards  those  who  err,  and  be  always  more 
ready  to  pity  than  to  blame. 

Then  gently  scan  your  brother  man, 

Still  gentler  sister  woman ; 
Though  they  may  gang  a  kennin'  wrang, 

To  step  aside  is  human. 
One  point  must  still  be  greatly  dark, 

The  moving  why  they  do  it ; 
And  just  as  lamely  can  ye  mark 

How  far,  perhaps,  they  rue  it. 

Who  made  the  heart,  'tis  He  alone 

Decidedly  can  try  us  ; 
He  knows  each  chord  —  its  various  tone, 

Each  spring  —  its  various  bias  ; 
Then  at  the  balance  let's  be  mute, 

We  never  can  adjust  it. 
What's  done  we  partly  may  compute, 

But  know  not  what's  resisted. 

BURNS. 

[261] 


SEPTEMBER  TWELFTH. 

WHAT  have  you  given  to  the  hours  to-day?  The 
busy  little  hurrying  hours  that  count  the  pulse- 
beats  of  this  fleeting  September  day!  What  have  you 
entrusted  to  their  keeping  that  is  worth  claiming  again 
in  the  Golden  Aftermath?  There  shall  come  to  you 
sometime  a  solemn,  immortal  Hour,  when  you  shall 
stand  face  to  face  with  the  Eternal  Reaper  of  earth's 
ripened  harvest ;  will  to-day's  record  be  a  source  of 
satisfaction  to  you  then?  Has  your  life  given  out  a 
glory  of  gold  and  scarlet  to-day?  Has  it  been  drink- 
ing in  September's  dyes  to  gild  other  lives,  and  to 
make  a  fabric  of  beauty  and  grace  for  Heaven?  Oh, 
think  on  the  hours  !  put  your  best  into  them ;  remem- 
ber they  were  born  for  Eternity. 

They  all 
Sweep  onward. 

These  are  the  immortal  Hours 
Of  whom  thou  didst  demand.    One  waits  for  thee. 

SHELLEY. 

Hours  are  golden  links,  God's  token, 
Reaching  Heaven ;  but  one  by  one 

Take  them,  lest  the  chain  be  broken, 
Ere  thy  pilgrimage  be  done. 

ADELAIDE   PROCTER. 


Happy  the  man,  and  happy  he  alone, 

He  who  can  call  to-day  his  own,  — 

He  who  secure  within  can  say, 

To-morrow  do  thy  worst,  for  I  have  lived  to-day. 

DRYDEN. 

[262] 


SEPTEMBER  THIRTEENTH. 

GUIDE  me,  O  Lord,  in  all  the  changes  and  varie- 
ties of  the  world ;  that  in  all  things  that  shall 
happen  I  may  have  an  evenness  and  tranquillity  of 
spirit ;  that  my  soul  may  be  wholly  resigned  to  Thy 
divinest  will  and  pleasure,  never  murmuring  at  Thy 
gentle  chastisement  and  fatherly  correction.  Amen.  — 

JEREMY   TAYLOR. 

This  is  our  common  lot,  —  the  bitter  with  the  sweet ; 
and  if  we  can  drink  of  this  cup  unmurmuringly  from  the 
Hand  of  God,  He  will  give  us  the  blessed  victory  over 
Self,  which  is  the  beginning  of  the  New  Life.  In  this 
happier  and  higher  state,  we  shall  accept  thankfully 
His  wise  decree,  and  with  humble  submission  say, 
"  Thy  will  be  done."  We  shall  then  be  enabled  to 
comfort  other  hearts  and  whisper  words  of  consolation 
to  those  who  have  learned  the  discipline  of  sorrow. 

Throw  thyself  on  thy  God,  nor  mock  Him  with  feeble 

denial ; 

Sure  of  His  love,  and  oh  !  sure  of  His  mercy  at  last ; 
Bitter  and  deep  though  the  draught,  yet  shun  not  the 

cup  of  thy  trial, 
But  in  its  healing  effect,  smile  at  its  bitterness  past. 

Pray  for  the  holier  cup  while  sweet  with  bitter  lies 

blending, 
Tears  in  the  cheerful  eye,  smiles   on  the  sorrowing 

cheek ; 
Death  expiring  in  life,  when  the  long-drawn  struggle 

is  ending ; 
Triumph  and  joy  to  the  strong,  strength  to  the  weary 

and  weak. 

SIR   JOHN   HERSCHEL. 
[263] 


SEPTEMBER   FOURTEENTH. 

WE  often  expect  too  much  of  our  friends.  We 
sometimes  demand  more  from  them  than  we 
are  willing  to  give  in  exchange.  We  look  to  them  for 
loyalty  at  all  times ;  we  expect  their  help  in  an  emer- 
gency, and  are  grieved  and  disturbed  if  we  cannot 
depend  upon  them  in  time  of  need.  Are  we  willing  to 
do  as  much  for  them  ?  Nothing  is  more  touching  than 
the  genuine  friendship  that  some  of  the  poor  little 
newsboys  and  bootblacks  have  for  each  other ;  they 
seem  to  account  it  a  privilege  to  defend  their  friends. 
God  bless  their  little  loyal  hearts!  Many  of  us,  placed 
in  similar  circumstances,  would  not  prove  so  unselfish, 
I  fear,  as  they,  who,  though  lacking  the  temporal  bless- 
ings we  enjoy,  are  staunch  and  loyal  in  their  friend- 
ships. 

He  ought  not  to  pretend  to  friendship's  name 
Who  reckons  not  himself  and  friend  the  same. 

Such  is  the  use  and  noble  end  of  friendship, 
To  bear  a  part  in  every  storm  of  fate, 
And,  by  dividing,  make  the  lighter  weight. 

BEVIL  HIGGONS. 

Let  falsehood  assail  not, 

Nor  envy  disprove ; 
Let  trifles  prevail  not 

Against  those  ye  love  ! 
Nor  change  with  to-morrow, 

Should  fortune  take  wing, 
But  the  deeper  the  sorrow, 

The  closer  still  cling  ! 

CHARLES   SWAIN. 

[264] 


SEPTEMBER   FIFTEENTH. 

A  GLAD  September  day!  Let  us  feel  the  first  cool 
breezes  blow  inward  from  the  wood ;  let  us  ram- 
ble through  the  winding  paths,  and  stoop  to  gather, 
here  and  there,  a  stray  leaf  of  crimson  and  amber,  that 
comes  fluttering  down  at  our  feet.  Some  uncut  fields 
yet  wait  the  shining  sickle,  some  late  roses  yet  cradle 
the  airy  butterflies,  and  over  all  the  meadow-lark  and 
linnet  make  music  clear  and  sweet.  Rejoice,  my  heart! 
this  world  of  September  beauty  is  all  for  thee! 

I  take  the  land  to  my  breast, 
In  her  coat  with  daisies  fine ; 

For  me  are  the  hills  in  their  best, 
And  all  that's  made  is  mine. 

JEAN   INGELOW. 

The  world  and  I  are  too  full  of  bliss 
To  think  or  plan  or  toil  or  care ; 
The  sun  is  waxing  strong, 
The  days  are  waxing  long, 
And  all  that  is, 
Is  fair. 

Hark  to  my  linnets  from  the  hedges  green, 
Blackbird  and  lark,  and  thrush  and  dove, 
And  every  nightingale 
And  cuckoo  tells  its  tale, 
And  all  they  mean 
Is  love. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 

Lo !  the  hills  of  harvest  whiten, 
All  along  each  distant  shore. 

CECIL  FRANCES   ALEXANDER. 
[265] 


SEPTEMBER   SIXTEENTH. 

T)EACE  possesses  the  soul  that  is  strong  to  do  and 
A  bear  all  things  for  Christ's  sake.  Be  submissive 
in  God's  hands ;  be  strong  to  wait  as  well  as  work ; 
with  every  appointed  task,  given  by  the  hand  of  God, 
comes  also  the  blessing  of  patience.  Peace  is  one  of 
God's  sweetest  gifts  to  His  beloved,  and  is  the  twin 
sister  of  Patience. 

The  child  leans  on  its  parent's  breast, 
Leaves  there  its  cares  and  is  at  rest ; 
The  bird  sits  singing  by  his  nest, 

And  tells  aloud 
His  trust  in  God,  and  so  is  blessed 

'Neath  every  cloud. 

He  has  no  store,  he  sows  no  seed, 
Yet  sings  aloud,  and  doth  not  heed ; 
By  flowing  stream  or  grassy  mead, 

He  sings  to  shame 
Men  who  forget,  in  fear  of  need, 

A  Father's  name. 

The  heart  that  trusts  forever  sings, 
And  feels  as  light  as  it  had  wings  ; 
A  well  of  peace  within  it  springs  ; 

Come  good  or  ill, 
Whate'er  to-day,  to-morrow  brings, 

It  is  His  will. 

ISAAC  WILLIAMS. 

O  my  God  !   I  bless 

Thy  mercy  that  with  Sabbath  peace  hath  filled 
My  chastened  heart,  and  all  its  throbbings  stilled 
To  one  deep  calm  of  lowliest  thankfulness. 

FELICIA   HEMANS. 
[266] 


SEPTEMBER   SEVENTEENTH. 

npRACE  an  immortal  truth   on  the  hearts   of  thy1 
•*-     friends  while  thou  livest.     Make  thy  life  an  ex- 
ample for  others  to  follow,  —  a  life  that  isjjver  £oint- 

ing  Godward.  Blend  in  thy  being  the  loveliness  of  all 
Christian  graces,  —  the  sweetest  of  all  which  are  Faith, 
Hope,  and  Love.  Let  thy  soul  outbreathe, faith  in  God 
and  thy  fellow-man,  hope  for  the  Life  Everlasting,  and 
love  to  all  creation.  Then  shall  thy  influence  be 
deathless. 

There  are  three  lessons  I  would  write,  — 
Three  words,  as  with  a  burning  pen, 

In  tracings  of  eternal  light 
Upon  the  hearts  of  men. 

Have  Hope.     Though  clouds  environ  now, 
And  gladness  hides  her  face  in  scorn, 

Put  thou  the  shadow  from  thy  brow,  — 
No  night  but  hath  its  morn. 

Have  Faith,     Where'er  thy  bark  js_  Driven, 

The  claim's  disport,  the  tempest's  mirth, 

Know  this,  —  God  rules  the  host  of  Heaven, 

The  inhabitants  of  earth. 

Have  Love.     Not  love  alonex  for jjne, 
Busman,  as  man,  thy  brothers  call  j 

And  scatter,  like  the  circling  sunx 
Thy  charities  on  all. 

Thus  grave  these  lessons  on  thy  soul^— 

Hope,  Faith,  and  Love  —  and  thou  shalt  find 

Strength  when  life's  surges  rudest  roll* 
Light  when  thou  else  wert  blind. 

FROM   THE   GERMAN   OF   SCHILLER. 

[267] 


SEPTEMBER   EIGHTEENTH. 

SIT  not  down  with   idly  folded   hands ;    open   thy 
palms,  reach   out   for  thy  work,  and   the   Master 
Mechanic  will  give  thee  a  place  among  His  busy  work- 
men.    Then,  ck)  thy  honest  besL 

.God  did  anoint  thee  with  His  odorous  oil, 
To  wrestle^  not  to  reign. 

E.  B.  BROWNING. 

To  be  rich,  be  diligent ;  move  on 

Like  Heaven's  great  movers  that  enrich  the  earth, 

Whose  moment's  sloth  would  show  the  world  undone, 

And  make  the  Spring  straight  bury  all  her  birth. 

Rich  are  the  diligent  who  can  command 

Time  —  nature's  stock. 

DAVENANT. 

'Tis  the  bold  who  win  the  race, 

Whether  for  gold,  or  love,  or  name ; 
'Tis  the  true  ones  always  face 
Dangers  and  trials,  and  win  a  place, 
A  niche  in  the  fane  of  fame. 

ANONYMOUS. 

tLet  me  not  die  before  I  have  done  for  The.e, 
Some  earthly^work,  whateverjt  may  be ; 
Call  me  not  hence  with  mission  unfulfilled: 
Let  me  not  leave  my  space  _of  ground  untilledj 
Impress  this  truth  upon  me,  that  not  one 
Can  do  my  portion  that  I  leave  undone, . 
For  each  one  in  Thy  vineyard  hath  a  spot 
T_oJab_our.injiQr.life.,  and  weary_jio£. 
Then  give  me  strength  all  faithfully  to  toil, 
Converting  barren  earth  to  fruitful  soil. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[268] 


SEPTEMBER   NINETEENTH. 

YOUR  share  and  mine!  God  has  divided  it  out 
for  us  and  then  watches  to  see  how  we  will  accept 
it,  how  make  use  of  it.  Some  bitter  with  the  sweet, 
some  dead  leaves  with  the  blooming  flowers,  some 
shadows  with  the  glowing  sun, —  but  He  hath  given 
it  from  His  Hand  Divine.  What  of  the  submissive 
heart  that  received  a  bitterer  draught  than  yours? 
What  did  it  do?  Took  the  cup  that  God  gave, quaffed 
it  to  its  bitter  dregs,  and  stood  calmly  beneath  His 
chastening  rod,  subdued,  but  not  cast  down.  "  Why 
art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul?  and  why  art  thou 
disquieted  within  me  ?  " 

There  are  briars  besetting  nry_Ba.th. 

That  call  for  patiept  care  ; 
There  is  a  cross  for  every  lot, 

And (an  earnest  nee_d  for  2rav-£lj 
But  the  lowly  heart  that  leans  on  Thee. 

Isjiappjr  everywhere. 

ANNA  L.   WARING. 

My  God  once  mixed  a  harsh  cup,  for  me  to  drink  from 

it, 

And  it  was  full  of  acrid  bitterness  intensest ; 
The  black  and  nauseating  draught  did  make  me  shrink 

from  it, 

And  cry,  "  O  Thou  who  every  draught  alike  dispensest, 
This  cup  of  anguish  sore,  bid  me  not  to  quaff  of  it, 
Or  pour  away  the  dregs  and  the  deadliest  half  of  it, 
But  still  the  cup  He  held ;  and  seeing  He  ordained  it, 
One  glance  at   Him  —  it  turned    to   sweetness  as   I 

drained  it. 

FROM   POETRY   OF   THE   ORIENT. 

[269] 


SEPTEMBER  TWENTIETH. 

THE  particular  annoyance  which  befell  you  this 
morning ;  the  vexatious  words  which  met  your 
ear  and  "  grieved "  your  spirit ;  the  disappointment 
which  was  His  appointment  for  to-day;  the  slight  but 
hindering  ailment ;  the  presence  of  some  one  who  is  a 
"  grief  of  mind  "  to  you,  —  whatever  this  day  seemeth 
not  joyous,  but  grievous,  is  linked  in  "  the  good  pleasure 
of  His  goodness  "  with  a  corresponding  afterward  of 
"peaceable  fruit,"  the  very  seed  from  which,  if  you 
only  do  not  choke  it,  this  shall  spring  and  ripen. — 

F.  R.  HAVERGAL. 

Sense  of  wrongsJorget  to  treasure. — 

brethren,  live  in  perfect  lo.ve!. 

In  the  starry  realms  above, 
God  will  mete  as  we  may  measure. 

SCHILLER. 

Be  not  you  grieved 

If  that  which  you  mould  fair,  upright,  and  smooth, 
Be  screwed  awry,  made  crooked,  lame,  and  vile, 
By  racking  comments. 
So  to  be  bit  it  rankles  not,  for  Innocence 
May  with  a  feather  brush  off  the  foul  wrong. 

THOMAS  DEKKER. 

Be  not  o'ermastered  with  thy  pain, 
But  cling  to  God,  thou  shalt  not  fall ; 

The  floods  sweep  over  thee  in  vain, 
Thou  yet  shalt  rise  above  them  all ; 

For  when  thy  JriaLseems  too  hard  to  bear, 

Lo!  God,  thy  Kingj  hath  granted  all  thy_  prayer^: 
Be  thou  content. 

P.  GERHARDT. 

[270] 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-FIRST. 

WHO  has  good  deeds  brought  well  to  end, 
For  him  the  glowing  forests  shine ; 
The  whole  world  is  to  him  a  friend, 

And  all  the  earth  a  diamond  mine. 

FROM   THE  POETRY  OF  THE  ORIENT. 


Good  deeds  in  this  world  done 
Are  paid  beyond  the  sun  ; 
As  water  on  the  root 
Is  seen  above  in  fruit. 

WAS  ANA'S  PROVERB. 


Go  from  the  east  to  the  west,  as  the  sun  and  the  stars 

direct  thee, 
Go  with  the  girdle  of  man,  go  and  encompass  the 

earth. 
Not  for  the  gain  of  the  gold ;    for  the  getting,  the 

hoarding,  the  having, 

But  for  the  joy  of  the  deed  ;  but  for  the  Duty  to  do. 
Go  with  the  spiritual  life,   the   higher  volition  and 

action, 

With  the  great  girdle  of  God,  go  and  encompass  the 
earth. 

ARTHUR  HUGH  CLOUGH. 


We  live  in  deeds,  not  years  ;  in  thoughts,  not  breaths  ; 
In  feelings,  not  in  figures  on  a  dial. 
We  should  count  time  by  heart-throbs ;  he  most  lives 
Who  thinks  most,  feels  the  noblest,  acts  the  best. 

BAILEY. 
[271] 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-SECOND. 

^~\UTWARD  appearances  are  often  deceitful.  Beau- 
V.X  ties  lie  hidden  underneath  rough  exteriors,  until 
the  touch  of  a  master-hand  polishes  and  chisels  and 
moulds  them  into  loveliness.  Who  would  think  the 
exquisite  vase  was  ever  once  a  mass  of  sodden  clay? 
Who  would  believe  it  possible  that  the  gleaming 
marble  statue  was  hewn  from  the  dark  stone?  Ah, 
who  but  the  great  and  wise  Philosopher  could  put  into 
the  mind  of  man  the  ability  to  reason  out  these  things, 
to  labor,  and  to  achieve?  It  is  the  refining  process 
that  is  needed  to  bring  to  light  hidden  beauties. 

Within  this  leaf  to  every  eye 
So  little  worth,  doth  hidden  lie 
Most  rare  and  subtle  fragrancy. 
Wouldst  thou  its  secret  strength  unbind? 
Crush  it,  and  thou  shalt  perfume  find 
Sweet  as  Arabia's  spicy  wind. 

In  this  dull  stone  so  poor,  and  bare 
Of  shape  or  lustre,  patient  care 
Will  find  for  thee  a  jewel  rare! 
But  first  must  skilful  hands  essay, 
With  file  and  flint,  to  clear  away 
The  film  which  hides  its  fire  from  day. 

This  leaf !     This  stone  !     It  is  thy  heart ; 
It  must  be  crushed  by  pain  and  smart, 
It  must  be  cleansed  by  sorrow's  art, 
Ere  it  will  yield  a  fragrance  sweet, 
Ere  it  will  shine  a  jewel  meet 
To  lay  before  Thy  dear  Lord's  feet ! 

ANONYMOUS. 

[272] 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-THIRD. 

OH,  the  joy  of  giving  joy  to  others  !  Your  sum- 
mer vacation  is  ended,  and  how  pleasant  it  has 
been  !  You  shut  your  eyes  and  imagine  you  are 
still  wandering  through  the  deep  green  fields  and 
"  across  the  far  blue  hills."  You  have  brought  back 
some  of  the  fresh  country  air  in  your  invigorated 
body,  and,  besides,  have  stored  up  some  sweet  little 
lessons  from  Nature's  happy  teachings.  Your  house 
is  full  of  dust  and  cobwebs,  and  there  is  plenty  to 
be  done  to  get  it  in  habitable  order  again.  There 
is  more  yet  for  you  to  do ;  keep  on  getting  ready 
for  winter.  Give  some  of  your  bottled-up  sunshine 
to  others ;  clear  out  the  store-house  of  your  mind. 
Every  one  could  not  go  to  the  sea-shore,  or  to  the 
mountains,  or  even  to  a  quiet  country  place,  as  you 
did.  Some  stayed  in  the  hot,  dry  city,  walled  in 
by  buildings  that  shut  out  the  blue  sky,  the  sun- 
shine, and  the  occasional  breeze,  while  you  revelled 
in  all  three.  Now  be  careful  that  the  dust  and  cob- 
webs of  selfishness  do  not  accumulate  in  the  corners 
of  your  mental  house,  and  keep  others  from  looking 
in.  The  poor  little  sick  girl  across  the  way,  and 
the  lame  bootblack  that  you  pass  every  day,  —  how 
like  Heaven  it  would  be  to  give  them  some  of  the 
brightness  you  have  shut  up  in  your  heart,  and  some 
of  the  lessons  you  have  locked  away  in  your  mind. 
Keep  brushing  down  the  cobwebs,  so  the  sunlight 
can  have  plenty  of  room  to  shine  in,  and  so  your 
happiness  can  have  plenty  of  room  to  get  out. 
There  are  a  hundred  beautiful  ways  of  showing  God 
that  you  are  personally  grateful  to  Him  for  His 
goodness  to  you, — donH  fail  to  take  advantage  of 
them. 

[273] 


SEPTEMBER  TWENTY-FOURTH. 

DO  not  allow  idle  curiosity  about  the  affairs  of 
others  to  rob  you  of  a  sense  of  your  obligations  to 
God  and  man.  Many  a  bright  mind  has  been  directed 
into  wrong  channels.  Endowed  with  a  natural  desire 
to  investigate  beyond  the  bounds  of  sight,  it  reaches 
out  like  a  vine  for  something  to  cling  to,  and  instead  of 
twining  itself  around  oaks  of  wisdom  and  knowledge, 
finds  but  brambles  of  worldly  affairs  around  which  to 
wind  its  tendrils.  Oh,  what  a  pity  that  a  life  should  be 
so  spoiled  by  trifles  !  What  difference  does  it  make  to 
you  what  your  neighbor  may  do,  so  that  you  exert  the 
right  influence  over  him,  and  are  never  a  stumbling- 
block  in  his  path  ?  Your  part  is  to  attend  to  the  duties 
assigned  to  you,  and  not,  through  idle  curiosity,  to 
leave  your  work  to  see  into  the  affairs  of  others. 

What  is  it  then  to  me 

If  others  are  inquisitive  to  see? 

Why  should  I  quit  my  place  to  go  and  ask 

If  other  men  are  working  at  their  task? 

Leave  my  own  buried  roots  to  go 

And  see  that  brother  plants  shall  grow ; 

And  turn  away  from  Thee,  O  Thou  most  Holy  Light, 

To  look  if  other  orbs  their  orbits  keep  aright, 

Around  their  proper  sun, 

Deserting  Thee,  and  being  undone. 

ARTHUR  HUGH  CLOUGH. 

One  finger's  breadth  at  hand  will  mar 
A  world  of  light  in  Heaven  afar, 
A  mote  eclipse  a  glorious  star, 
An  eyelid  hide  the  sky. 

J.    KEBLE. 

[274] 


SEPTEMBER    TWENTY-FIFTH. 

LORD,  who  shall  abide  in  thy  tabernacle?    Who 
shall  dwell  in  thy  holy  hill?     He  that  walketh 
uprightly,  and  walketh  righteously,  and  speaketh  the 
truth  in  his  heart.  —  PSALM  15  :  I,  2. 

May  Truth  abide  with  you  through  all  Eternity! 

While  the  great  generation  depart, 
And  full  ages  and  firmaments  roll, 
Mighty  love  is  the  lord  of  the  heart, 
And  pure  truth  the  bright  king  of  the  soul. 

ANONYMOUS. 

If  all  circumstances  lead  me,  I  will  find 
Where  truth  is  hid,  though  it  were  hid  indeed 
Within  the  centre. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Rejoice,  ye  humble,  and  exult,  ye  poor ;  God's  king- 
dom's yours,  if   ye  but  walk  in  truth.  —  THOMAS  A 

KEMPIS. 

It  fortifies  my  soul  to  know 

That,  though  I  perish,  Truth  is  so ; 

That  howsoe'er  I  stray  and  range, 

Whatever  I  do,  Thou  dost  not  change. 

I  steadier  step  when  I  recall 

That  if  I  slip,  Thou  dost  not  fall. 

ARTHUR  HUGH   CLOUGH. 

Oh,  truth, 

Thou  art,  whilst  tenant  in  a  noble  breast, 
A  crown  of  crystal  in  an  iv'ry  chest! 

DAVENANT. 

[275] 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

NO  one  but  God  understands  our  hearts  :  we  do  not 
understand  them  ourselves.  They  send  out  words 
and  breathe  out  thoughts  that  surprise  us,  at  times. 
We  wonder  that  we  are  capable  of  so  much  loving  or 
unloving ;  God  looks  calmly  down  and  listens  to  all  we 
say.  He  knows  our  hearts  from  the  beginning.  The 
world  stamps  its  image  upon  us ;  each  heart  carries  a 
bit  of  the  world  in  it,  because  we  are  so  much  with  the 
world,  and  so  much  of  it.  The  more  our  hearts  are 
with  God,  the  more  of  God  we  have  in  us.  Let  us, 
then,  be  less  with  the  world,  and  more  with  God. 

Each  little  thronging  star  that  shines 

Below  the  eternal  throne, 
Amidst  the  crowd  of  burning  lines, 

Revolves  and  burns  alone. 

Upon  its  earthly  pathway  hurled, 

So  every  human  heart, 
Even  as  that  lone  and  burning  world, 

Aspires  and  beats  apart. 

Mysterious  star,  and  heart  as  well, 

We  little  know,  alas! 
But  God  can  look  through  both,  and  tell 

The  smallest  things  that  pass. 

FROM   THE  FRENCH. 

The  heart  hath  its  mystery,  and  who  may  reveal  it, 
Or  who  ever  read  in  the  depth  of  their  own, 

How  much  we  never  may  speak  of,  yet  feel  it, 
But  even  in  feeling  it,  know  it  unknown. 

LETITIA   E.    LANDON. 
[276] 


SEPTEMBER   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

WHO  has  not  felt  the  sweet,  silent  influence  of  a 
pure  friendship  ?  It  runs  through  our  lives  like 
a  thread  of  gold,  and  beautifies  the  fabric  of  our  whole 
nature.  Happy  is  he  who  is  such  a  blessing  to  others. 
And  when  we  are  called  to  part  from  one  so  dear,  his 
memory  never  dies ;  it  is  like  the  perpetual  rose  of 
Summer :  it  keeps  on  blooming  forever,  and  makes  our 
hearts  a  never-dying  Summer-land. 

Friendship's  the  image  of 
Eternity,  in  which  there  is  nothing 
Movable  —  nothing  mischievous  ;  as  much 
Difference  as  there  is  between  beauty 
And  virtue,  bodies  and  shadows,  colours 
And  life,  so  great  odds  is  there  between  love 
And  friendship. 

JOHN   LILLY. 

I  count  myself  in  nothing  else  so  happy, 
As  in  a  soul  rememb'ring  my  good  friends  ; 
And,  as  my  fortune  ripens  with  my  love, 
It  shall  be  still  thy  true  love's  recompense. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Friendship  has  a  power 
To  soothe  affliction  in  her  darkest  hour. 

HENRY   KIRKE   WHITE. 

The  thread  of  our  life  would  be  dark,  Heaven  knows! 
If    it   were   not  with   Friendship  and   Love   inter- 
twined ; 
And  I  care  not  how  soon  I  may  sink  to  repose, 

When  those  blessings  shall  cease  to  be  dear  to  my 
mind. 

MOORE. 

[277] 


SEPTEMBER  TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

AND  you,  humble  little  blades  of  grass,  you  are  not 
fair  like  the  flowers,  nor  have  you  odors  such  as 
they ;  what  have  you  done  to  show  forth  the  Father's 
glory? 

We  have  fed  His  humblest  creatures, 
We  have  served  Him  truly  and  long ; 

We  have  no  grace  to  our  features, 
We  have  neither  colour  or  song. 

Yet  He  who  made  the  flowers 

Placed  us  on  the  self-same  sod  ; 
He  knows  our  reason  for  being : 

We  are  the  grass  in  the  garden  of  God. 

FROM   THE   GULISTAN   OF   SAADI. 

Even  the  grasses  praise  God.  There  is  not  a  blade 
among  them  but  has  a  tiny  mission  to  perform,  and 
not  one  of  them  but  is  large  enough  to  hold  a  drop  of 
dew.  What  an  example  for  us!  When  we  complain 
that  our  strength  is  too  small  for  the  burden  laid  upon 
us,  why  do  we  not  trust  our  Father  to  uphold  us  and 
give  us  the  power  to  carry  dew-drops  of  love  for  our 
fellow-men  ?  Little  smiles,  as  we  pass  each  other  by ; 
a  touch  of  the  hand ;  a  word  of  sympathy,  a  tear,  — 
ah,  what  bright  drops  of  heavenly  dew  they  are! 

The  merest  grass 

Along  the  roadside  where  we  pass, 

Lichen  and  moss  and  sturdy  weed, 

Tell  of  His  love  who  sends  the  dew, 

The  rain  and  sunshine  too, 

To  nourish  one  small  seed. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 

[278] 


w 


SEPTEMBER  TWENTY-NINTH. 

BEAUTIFUL  THINGS  TO  REMEMBER. 

HO   learns  and   learns,   but  acts   not  what   he 

knows, 
Is  one  who  ploughs  and  ploughs,  but  never  sows. 


Be  no  imitator ;  freshly  act  thy  part ; 
Through  this  world  be  thou  an  independent  ranger ; 
Better  is  the  faith  that  springeth  from  the  heart, 
Than  a  better  faith  belonging  to  a  stranger. 

Howe'er  the  ignorant  decry, 

Howe'er  oppose  the  envious  crew, 

Since  death  comes  soon,  and  brief  years  fly, 

Thy  firmly  chosen  work  pursue! 

A  friend  both  wise  and  true  amid  all  shocks 
Resplendent  shines,  like  fire  uppn  a  rock's 
High  top,  which  dissipates  the  darkness  round, 
And  fills  the  travellers  by  with  joy  profound. 

A  wondrous  rosary  he  never  needs, 

Who  tells  in  love  and  thought  the  spirit's  beads. 

Where'er  the  face  of  earnest  faith  thou  bringest,  pure, 

and  sweet, 
Thou  then  the  smiling  face  of  thine  approving  God 

shall  meet. 

Name  not  as  friends  the  men  who  by  you  stand 
In  pleasant  times,  when  peace  and  welfare  please  you; 
But  him  indeed  call  friend  who  grasps  your  hand 
In  that  dark  day  when  want  and  danger  seize  you. 

GEMS   FROM   POETRY   OF   THE   ORIENT. 

[279] 


SEPTEMBER    THIRTIETH. 

IT  is  not  until  the  last  golden  days  of  September  are 
slipping  away,  that  we  begin  to  realize  that  our  glad, 
brief  Summer  has  gone,  never  to  return.  True,  we  have 
felt  the  keen  little  breezes  blowing ;  the  nights  have 
grown  cooler,  and  the  mornings  and  evenings  take  on 
a  mistiness  which  is  as  faint  and  purpling  as  the  bloom 
on  a  ripened  plum.  Oh,  let  not  the  season  drift  by 
without  leaving  some  tokens  of  its  presence!  Give  to 
some  heart  a  harebell  of  joy,  or  a  torch  of  love,  or  a 
water-lily  of  purity,  to  have  and  to  hold  during  all  the 
winter  days  to  come.  Let  no  season  go  by  without 
keeping  some  memento  of  it ;  happy  is  he  who  can 
gather  blessings  in  a  time  of  plenty,  and  scatter  them 
in  a  time  of  need. 


But  still  for  Summer  dost  thou  grieve  ? 
Then  read  our  poets  —  they  shall  weave 
A  garden  of  green  fancies  still, 
Where  they  who  wish  may  rove  at  will. 
They  have  kept  for  after  treats 
The  essence  of  summer  sweets, 
And  echoes  of  its  songs  that  wind 
In  endless  music  through  the  mind : 
They  leave  stamped  in  visible  traces 
The  "  thoughts  that  breathe,"  in  words  that  shine  — 
The  flights  of  soul  in  sunny  places  — 
To  greet  and  company  with  thine. 
These  shall  wing  thee  on  to  flowers  — 
The  past  or  future  that  shall  seem 
All  the  brighter  in  thy  dream, 
For  blowing  in  such  desert  hours. 

THOMAS   HOOD. 

[280] 


GEORGE    MACDONALD 
1824 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF   OCTOBER — 


OCTOBER   FIRST. 

O  GRAND  October,  the  whole  world  has  waited 
thy  coming,  since  first  the  year  began!  And  now, 
thou  art  blushing  and  glowing  and  fading  and  dying 
all  at  once.  Oh,  the  splendor  of  thy  forests,  the  rich- 
ness and  ripeness  of  thy  harvests,  how  marvellous  they 
are!  Earth's  best  is  ready  to  be  garnered  ;  her  growing 
and  blooming  and  perfecting  is  done,  and  lo!  what 
an  abundance  has  it  yielded  !  Soul,  is  thy  harvest  of 
good  deeds  an  abundant  one  ?  Then  for  thee  will  thy 
Autumn-time  be  rich  in  Heaven's  glorious  colorings, 
which  the  frosts  of  God's  wise  discipline  will  bring  into 
ripened  fruition. 

Inconstant  Summer  to  the  tropics  flees, 

And  as  her  rose-sails  catch  the  amorous  breeze, 

Lo!  bare,  brown  Autumn  trembles  to  her  knees! 

The  stealthy  nights  encroach  upon  the  days, 
The  earth  with  sudden  whiteness  is  ablaze, 
And  all  her  paths  are  lost  in  crystal  maze! 

The  ripened  nuts  drop  downward  day  by  day, 
Sounding  the  hollow  tocsin  of  decay, 
And  bandit  squirrels  smuggle  them  away. 

Vague  sight  and  scents  pervade  the  atmosphere, 
Sounds  of  invisible  stirrings  hum  the  ear, 
The  morning's  lash  reveals  a  frozen  tear. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[281] 


OCTOBER   SECOND. 

A  BLENDING  of  rich  color  lies  around  us.  Here 
and  there  a  dahlia,  crimsoning  in  the  October 
sunshine,  a  velvety  marigold,  yellow  as  an  autumn  sun- 
set, and  all  about  the  gardens,  clustered  groups  of 
fringy  chrysanthemums,  whose  spicy  breath  mingles 
with  the  odor  of  the  pines.  The  orchards  hang  low 
their  freighted  boughs.  Truly  the  year  is  in  its  prime. 

A  second  blow  of  many  flowers  appear, 
Flowers  faintly  tinged,  and  breathing  no  perfume. 
But  fruits,  not  blossoms,  form  the  woodland  wreath 
That  circles  Autumn's  brow. 

JAMES   GRAHAM. 

Life  is  not  quite  over, 

Even  if  the  year  has  done  with  corn  and  clover, 
With  flowers  and  leaves  ;  besides,  in  fact  it's  true, 
Some  leaves  remain  and  some  flowers  too, 
For  me  and  you. 
Now  see  my  crops  : 

I've  brought  you  nuts  and  hops ; 
And  when  the  leaf  drops,  why,  the  walnut  drops. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 

What  wondrous  life  is  this  I  lead! 
Ripe  apples  drop  about  my  head. 
The  luscious  clusters  of  the  vine 
Upon  my  mouth  do  crush  their  wine. 

SAMUEL   BUTLER. 

God  give  you  many  days,  and  may  your  whole  life 
be  spotless  and  pure,  giving  beauty  through  all  the 
changes,  even  when  the  leaf  has  turned  brown  and  the 
fruit  has  ripened.  —  ANONYMOUS. 

[282] 


OCTOBER   THIRD. 

IT  is  very  sweet  to  us,  in  our  daily  life,  to  catch  a 
little  foretaste  of  Heaven,  and  feel  as  if  we  were  a 
step  nearer  God.  Sometimes  there  comes  to  us  a  far- 
off  vision  of  the  Immortal  Land,  and  we  see  a  dim 
radiance  of  its  glories.  These  little  glimpses  are  but 
a  faint  revelation  of  what  is  to  come,  when  the  Heart 
of  Love  shall  make  them  all  "  clear  as  the  noonday." 

Yet  sometimes  glimpses  on  my  sight, 
Through  present  wrong,  the  eternal  right ; 
And  step  by  step,  since  time  began, 
I  see  the  steady  gain  of  man  ; 

That  all  of  good  the  past  hath  had 
Remains  to  make  our  own  time  glad, 
Our  common,  daily  life  divine, 
And  every  land  a  Palestine. 

Through  the  harsh  noises  of  our  day 
A  low,  sweet  prelude  finds  its  way ; 
Through  clouds  of  doubt  and  creeds  of  fear, 
A  light  is  breaking,  calm  and  clear. 

That  song  of  love,  now  low  and  far, 
Ere  long  shall  swell  from  star  to  star! 
That  light,  the  breaking  day,  which  tips 
The  golden-spired  apocalypse! 


Henceforth  my  heart  shall  sigh  no  more 
For  olden  time  and  holier  shore  ; 
God's  love  and  blessing,  then  and  there, 
Are  now  and  here  and  everywhere. 

GERALD   MASSEY. 


OCTOBER   FOURTH. 

•'  /~~*IVE  us  this  day  our  daily  bread."  Not  this  day 
V-T  alone,  but  all  days,  doth  our  Father  feed  His 
children.  He  provides  for  all  our  wants;  not  only 
those  of  the  body,  but  of  the  mind  and  soul,  as  well. 
His  goodness  is  a  spacious  storehouse,  open  at  all 
times  for  our  needs.  But  He  desires  us  to  make  our 
wants  known :  this  is  why  Christ  gave  us  the  beauti- 
ful prayer  which  has  echoed  from  lip  to  lip  all  over 
the  universe,  one  of  whose  sweetest  clauses  is  this  : 
"  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread."  It  is  an  appeal 
to  God  to  remember  us  out  of  His  great  abundance, 
and  shows  our  utter  dependence  on  His  bounty.  Give 
us,  O  Lord,  mental  and  spiritual  food,  as  well,  that 
body,  mind,  and  soul  may  this  day  be  sustained  and 
fed. 


The  golden  harvest  field 
Is  warmly  glowing  'gainst  a  sapphire  sky, 
The  orchard  trees  lift  laden  boughs  on  high, 
A  fruitage  rich  to  yield. 

Tis  thus  "Our  Father"  feeds 
With  loving  care  all  creatures  He  hath  made, 
And  in  His  treasure-house  hath  duly  laid 
Sufficient  for  our  needs. 


And  giveth  daily  bread 

As  He  sees  well.  —  With  pain,  or  smiles,  or  fears, 
Through  the  brief  discipline  of  early  years, 
Are  we,  His  children  fed. 

HELEN   MARION   BURNSIDE. 
[284] 


OCTOBER   FIFTH. 

TRUE  courtesy  is  greatly  to  be  desired ;  therefore, 
be  courteous. 

Seldom  yet  did  living  creature  see 
That  courtesies  and  manhood  ever  disagree. 

SPENSER. 

I  seldom  ride  in  a  car  without  seeing  some  evidences 
of  nineteenth  century  gallantry.  While  the  World's 
Fair  was  in  progress  in  Chicago,  I  was  told  by  a  resi- 
dent of  the  city  that  no  one  had  time  for  civilities,  and 
that  I  would  have  no  need  to  make  use  of  those  two 
little  gate-openers  to  desired  favors,  —  "  if  you  please," 
and  "  I  thank  you,"  —  and  that  it  was  not  expected.  I 
found  this  a  mistaken  idea.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  him- 
self could  not  have  been  more  thoroughly  a  gentle- 
man in  courtesy  and  deferential  politeness  than  were 
many  of  the  people  who  were  in  attendance  at  the 
great  exhibition.  I  cannot  now  recall  a  single  act  of 
discourtesy  at  that  time.  Let  us  practise  true  cour- 
tesy at  all  times  ;  it  is  becoming  to  everybody. 

Serene,  accomplished,  cheerful  but  not  loud ; 

Insinuating  without  insinuation ; 
Observant  of  the  foibles  of  the  crowd, 

Yet  ne'er  betraying  this  in  conversation  ; 
Proud  with  the  proud,  yet  courteously  proud, 

So  as  to  make  them  feel  he  knew  his  station 
And  theirs  :  —  without  a  struggle  to  priority 
He  neither  brooked  nor  claimed  superiority. 

BYRON. 

Civility  costs  nothing,  but  buys  everything. 

LADY  MARY  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 


OCTOBER   SIXTH. 

LET  the  weakest,  let  the  humblest,  remember  that 
in  his  daily  course  he  can,  if  he  will,  shed  around 
him  almost  a  heaven.  Kindly  words,  sympathizing  at- 
tentions, watchfulness  against  wounding  men's  sensi- 
tiveness, —  these  cost  very  little,  but  they  are  priceless 
in  their  value.  Are  they  not  almost  the  staple  of  our 
daily  happiness  ?  From  hour  to  hour,  from  moment  to 
moment,  we  are  supported,  blest,  by  small  kindnesses. 

—  F.   W.    ROBERTSON. 

Sympathetic  words,  looks,  and  acts  are  especially 
dear  to  us  in  our  home-circle,  and  are  treasured  by  us 
as  long  as  we  live.  Dispense  your  sympathy  as  you 
would  your  charity.  Let  it  have  a  bit  of  Heaven  in  it ; 
let  it  be  gentle  and  genuine. 

I  lay  in  sorrow,  deep  distress  : 

My  grief  a  proud  man  heard ; 
His  looks  were  cold,  he  gave  me  gold, 

But  not  a  kindly  word. 
My  sorrow  passed  —  I  paid  him  back 

The  gold  he  gave  to  me ; 
Then  stood  erect  and  spoke  my  thanks, 

And  blessed  his  charity. 

I  lay  in  want,  in  grief  and  pain  : 

A  poor  man  passed  my  way ; 
He  bound  my  head,  he  gave  me  bread, 

He  watched  me  night  and  day. 
How  shall  I  pay  him  back  again 

For  all  he  did  for  me  ? 
Oh,  gold  is  great,  but  greater  far 

Is  heavenly  sympathy! 

CHARLES   MACKAY. 

[286] 


OCTOBER   SEVENTH. 

THE  most  necessary  talent  in  a  man  of  conversa- 
tion, is  a  good  judgment.  He  that  hath  this  in 
perfection  is  a  master  of  his  companion,  without  letting 
him  see  it ;  and  has  the  same  advantage  over  men  of 
any  other  qualifications  whatsoever,  as  one  that  can 
see  would  have  over  a  blind  man  of  ten  times  his 
strength.  —  STEELE. 

'  Tis  with  our  judgments  as  our  watches,  —  none 
Go  just  alike,  yet  each  believes  his  own. 

POPE. 

His  be  the  praise,  who  looking  down  in  scorn 
On  the  false  judgment  of  the  partial  herd, 
Consults  his  own  clear  heart,  and  nobly  dares 
To  be,  not  to  be  thought,  an  honest  man. 

CUMBERLAND. 

Let  none  direct  thee  what  to  do  or  say, 
Till  thee  thy  judgment  of  the  matter  sway ; 
Let  not  the  pleasing  many  thee  delight, 
First  judge,  if  those  whom  thou  dost  please  judge 
right. 

DENHAM. 

How  much  we  give  to  other  hearts  our  tone, 
And  judge  of  other's  feelings  by  our  own. 

LETITIA   ELIZABETH   LANDON. 

Let  your  judgments  be  charitable.  Look  at  both 
sides  of  the  question  before  deciding  which  is  right. 
Harsh  judgments  often  occur  through  ignorance  or  in- 
atteation.  Acquaint  yourself  thoroughly  with  the  facts 
in  the  case  before  you  render  a  decision.  In  order  to 
be  just,  you  must  be  accurate. 
[287] 


OCTOBER   EIGHTH. 

T7RECT  your  tabernacles,  not  out  of  perishable  ma- 
•*— •*  terial,  but  of  substantial  stones  set  up  in  the  name 
of  Christ,  and  fitted  for  His  habitation. 

Methinks  it  is  good  to  be  here, 
If  thou  wilt,  let  us  build  —  but  for  whom  ? 

Nor  Elias  nor  Moses  appear ; 
But  the  shadows  of  eve  that  encompass  with  gloom 
The  abode  of  the  dead  and  the  place  of  the  tomb. 

Shall  we  build  to  Ambition?    Ah  no! 
Affrighted,  he  shrinketh  away ; 

For  see,  they  would  pin  him  below 
In  a  small  narrow  cave,  and,  begirt  with  cold  clay, 
To  the  meanest  of  reptiles  a  peer  and  a  prey. 

Shall  we  build  to  Affection  and  Love? 
Ah  no!  they  have  withered  and  died, 

Or  fled  with  the  spirit  above. 
Friends,  brothers,  and  sisters  are  laid  side  by  side, 
Yet  none  have  saluted,  and  none  have  replied. 

Unto  Sorrow?  —  the  dead  cannot  grieve; 
Not  a  sob,  not  a  sigh  meets  mine  ear, 

Which  Compassion  itself  could  relieve. 
Ah,  sweetly  they  slumber,  nor  love,  hope,  or  fear ; 
Peace!  peace  is  the  watchword,  the  only  one  here. 

The  first  tabernacle  to  Hope  we  will  build, 
And  look  for  the  sleepers  around  us  to  rise! 

The  second  to  Faith,  which  insures  it  fulfilled, 
And  the  third  to  the  Lamb  of  the  great  sacrifice, 
Who  bequeathed  us  them  both  when  He  rose  to  the 
skies. 

HERBERT    KNOWLES. 

[288] 


OCTOBER  NINTH. 

THE  dearest  secrets  of  our  heart  are  known  to  God. 
Cover  them  up,  bury  them  deeply,  hide  them 
away  from  the  world  as  you  may,  they  are  always  re- 
vealed to  Him.  Do  not  wish  to  have  anything  apart 
from  Him ;  be  glad  of  His  confidence,  rejoice  in  His 
love,  and  be  comforted  through  His  sympathy.  Oh, 
always  remember  that  God  knows,  and  that  He  cares. 

Therefore,  our  Heavenly  Father, 

We  will  not  fear  to  pray 
For  the  little  needs  and  longings 

That  fill  our  every  day  ; 
And  when  we  dare  not  whisper 

A  want  that  lieth  dim 
We  say,  "  Our  Father  knoweth," 

And  leave  it  all  to  Him. 

For  His  great  love  has  compassed 

Our  nature,  and  our  need, 
We  know  not :  but  He  knoweth, 

And  He  will  bless  indeed. 
Therefore,  O  Heavenly  Father, 

Give  what  is  best  to  me ; 
And  take  the  wants  unanswered, 

As  offerings  made  to  Thee. 

ANONYMOUS 

While  here,  alas !  I  know  but  half  His  love, 
But  half  discern  Him,  and  but  half  adore, 
But  when  I  meet  Him  in  the  realm  above, 

I  hope  to  love  Him  better,  praise  Him  more, 
And  feel  and  tell,  amid  the  choir  divine, 
How  fully  I  am  His,  and  He  is  mine. 

LYTE. 
[289] 


OCTOBER  TENTH. 

npO  be  angry  about  trifles  is  mean  and  childish  ;  to 
J-    rage  and  be  furious  is  brutish ;  .  .  .  but  to  pre- 
vent and  suppress  rising  resentment  is  wise  and  glori- 
ous, is  manly  and  divine.  —  WATTS. 

When  anger  rushes,  unrestrain'd,  to  action, 

Like  a  hot  steed,  it  stumbles  in  its  way : 

The  man  of  thought  strikes  deepest,  and  strikes  safest. 

RICHARD  SAVAGE. 

There  is  not  in  nature, 

A  thing  that  makes  a  man  so  deform'd,  so  beastly, 
As  doth  intemperate  anger. 

JOHN   WEBSTER. 

Madness  and  anger  differ  but  in  this, 
This  is  short  madness,  that  long  anger  is. 

CHARLES  ALEYN. 

If  you  have  inherited  a  quick  temper,  learn  to  con- 
trol it ;  wrestle  with  it,  get  it  under  subjection,  break 
it,  —  master  it.  There  is  no  grander  victory  than  to 
conquer  a  stubborn  will,  or  a  hasty  temper.  It  re- 
quires patience  and  perseverance  to  overcome,  every 
day :  keep  on  trying,  you  will  surely  succeed  by  and 
by.  God  will  give  you  the  mastery,  if  you  ask  Him ; 
He  has  accomplished  greater  things  than  that. 

Renew  Thine  image,  Lord,  in  me, 
Lowly  and  gentle  may  I  be ; 

No  charms  but  these  to  Thee  are  dear ; 
No  anger  mayest  Thou  ever  find, 
No  pride  in  my  unruffled  mind, 

But  faith,  and  heaven-born  peace  be  there. 

P.   GERHARDT. 

[290] 


OCTOBER   ELEVENTH. 

IF  events  change  men,  much  more  persons.  No 
man  can  meet  another  on  the  street  without  mak- 
ing some  mark  upon  him.  We  say  we  exchange  words 
when  we  meet ;  what  we  exchange  is  souls.  And  when 
intercourse  is  very  close  and  frequent,  so  complete  is 
this  exchange  that  recognizable  bits  of  the  one  soul 
begin  to  show  in  the  other's  nature,  and  the  second  is 
conscious  of  a  similar  and  growing  debt  to  the  first. 
.  .  .  It  is  the  law  of  influence  that  we  become  like 
those  whom  we  habitually  admire.  Through  all  the 
range  of  literature,  of  history,  and  biography,  this  law 
presides.  Men  are  all  mosaics  of  other  men.  —  PROF. 

HENRY  DRUMMOND. 

The  more  we  are  with  Christ,  the  more  we  become 
like  Him.  The  more  we  study  the  beauty  and  loveli- 
ness of  His  character,  the  more  we  desire  to  be  like 
Him.  Why  should  not  the  flowers  be  beautiful  ?  They 
blend  in  their  petals  the  rose  of  the  dawn,  the  amber 
of  the  noontide,  and  the  flame  of  the  sunset ;  they 
drink  in  the  dew  and  rain,  drops  that  are  pure  and  clear 
as  crystal;  why,  I  repeat,  should  the  flowers  not  be 
beautiful  with  such  associations?  How  could  they 
help  it?  And  you,  if  your  influences  are  of  Christ,  will 
possess  a  spirit  lovelier  than  the  flowers. 

Within  a  caravan  of  man's  trackless  spirit 

Is  framed  an  Image  so  intensely  fair, 
That  the  adventurous  thoughts  that  wander  near  it 

Worship,  and  as  they  kneel  tremble,  and  wear 
The  splendour  of  its  Presence,  and  the  light 

Penetrates  their  dreamlike  frame 
Till  they  become  charged  with  the  strength  of  flame. 

PERCY   BYSSHE   SHELLEY. 
[291] 


OCTOBER  TWELFTH. 

MAY  God  breathe  into  thy  soul  the  tranquillity  of 
His  peace!  When  Christ  stilled  the  tempest, 
how  must  the  troubled  disciples  have  been  brought 
near  to  Him,  through  this  proof  of  His  love  and  power! 
How  sweet  to  them  must  have  been  those  welcome 
words,  how  reassuring,  how  tender —  "It  is  I." 

Fierce  was  the  wild  billow, 

Dark  was  the  night, 
Oars  laboured  heavily, 

Foam  glimmered  white ; 
Mariners  trembled, 

Peril  was  nigh,  — 
Then  said  the  God  of  God : 

"Peace!  it  is  I." 

Ridge  of  the  mountain-wave, 

Lower  thy  crest! 
Wail  of  the  stormy  wind, 

Be  thou  at  rest ! 
Peril  can  none  be, 

Sorrow  must  fly, 
Where  saith  the  Light  of  Light : 

"Peace!  it  is  I." 

Jesus!  Deliverer! 

Come  Thou  to  me! 
Soothe  Thou  my  voyaging 

Over  life's  sea! 
Thou,  when  the  storm  of  death 

Roars,  sweeping  by, 
Whisper,  O  Truth  of  Truth! 

"Peace!  it  is  I." 

ANATOLIUS   OF   EPHESUS. 
[292] 


B 


OCTOBER   THIRTEENTH. 

Y  ignorance  is  pride  increas'd  ; 
They  most  assume  who  know  the  least. 

JOHN  GAY. 


Heaven  pities  ignorance ; 
She's  still  the  first  that  has  her  pardon  signed ; 
All  sins  else  see  their  faults,  she's  only  blind. 

THOMAS   MIDDLETON. 

Survey  our  faults,  our  errors,  our  vices, —  fearful,  and 
fertile  field,  —  trace  them  to  their  causes,  all  those 
causes  resolve  themselves  into  one  —  Ignorance !  For 
as  from  this  source  flowed  the  abuses  of  religion,  so 
also  from  this  source  flow  the  abuses  of  all  other  bless- 
ings, of  talents,  of  riches,  of  power ;  for  we  abuse  things, 
either  because  we  know  not  their  real  use,  or  because, 
with  an  equal  blindness,  we  imagine  the  abuse  more 
adapted  to  our  happiness.  But  as  ignorance,  then,  is 
the  sole  spring  of  evi7,  so,  as  the  antidote  of  ignorance 
is  knowledge,  it  necessarily  follows  that,  were  we  con- 
summate in  knowledge,  we  should  be  perfect  in  good. 
He,  therefore,  who  retards  the  progress  of  intellect, 
countenances  crime  —  nay,  to  a  state,  is  the  greatest  of 
criminals;  while  he  who  circulates  that  mental  light, 
more  precious  than  the  visual,  is  the  holiest  improver, 
and  the  surest  benefactor  of  his  race !  —  BULWER. 

But  'tis  some  justice  to  ascribe  to  chance 
The  wrongs  you  must  expect  from  ignorance ; 
None  can  the  moulds  of  their  creation  choose. 
We,  therefore,  should  men's  ignorance  excuse 
When  born  too  low  to  reach  all  things  sublime ; 
'  Tis  rather  their  misfortune  than  their  crime. 

SIR  W.   DAVENANT. 

[293] 


OCTOBER   FOURTEENTH. 

WHOSOEVER  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny 
himself,  and  take  up  his  cross,  and  follow  me.  — 
MARK  8 :  34. 

What  is  your  cross?  Is  it  an  envious  disposition? 
Is  it  a  hasty  temper?  Or  does  it  lie  in  your  surround- 
ings? Is  it  the  kind  of  work  you  are  obliged  to  do? 
He  has  given  you  this  special  place,  and  its  special 
duties,  that  they  may  become  a  crown  to  you.  Christ 
bore  His  cross  with  uncomplaining  meekness ;  why 
should  not  you? 

I've  many  a  cross  to  take  up  now, 

And  many  left  behind ; 
But  present  troubles  move  me  not, 

Nor  shake  my  quiet  mind. 
And  what  may  be  to-morrow's  cross 

I  never  seek  to  find ; 
My  Father  says,  "  Leave  that  to  Me, 

And  keep  a  quiet  mind." 

ANONYMOUS. 

Take,  then,  your  Cross  and  follow  Jesus, 

And  your  path  shall  lead  to  everlasting  life. 

He  went  His  way  before  you 

Carrying  the  burden  for  Himself. 

He  died  for  you  upon  it, 

That  you  might  take  your  own 

And  die  upon  it  too. 

But  if  you  die  with  Him, 

Even  so  with  Him  you  live ; 

And  if  you  are  the  comrade  of  His  pain, 

You  shall  have  His  glory  too. 

THOMAS  A   KEMPIS. 
[294] 


OCTOBER  FIFTEENTH. 

THERE  are  times  when  the  Light  breaks  in  upon 
thy  soul,  and  thou  hast  a  dim  idea  of  what  it  will 
be  like  to  be  with  Christ  and  His  redeemed  forever. 


Sometimes  I  catch  sweet  glimpses  of  His  face 

But  that  is  all. 
Sometimes  He  looks  on  me  and  seems  to  smile, 

But  that  is  all. 
Sometimes  He  speaks  a  passing  word  of  peace, 

But  that  is  all. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  hear  His  loving  voice 

Upon  me  call. 

And  this  is  all  He  meant  when  thus  He  spoke, 

"  Come  unto  me  "? 
Is  there  no  deeper,  more  enduring  rest, 

In  Him  for  thee? 
Is  there  no  steadier  light  for  thee  in  Him  ? 

Oh,  come  and  see! 

Oh,  come  and  see  !  oh,  look,  and  look  again! 

All  shall  be  right ; 
Oh,  taste  His  love,  and  see  that  it  is  good, 

Thou  child  of  night. 
Oh,  trust  Him,  trust  Him  in  His  grace  and  power, 

Then  all  is  bright! 

Then  shall  thy  tossing  soul  find  anchorage 

And  steadfast  peace ; 
Thy  love  shall  rest  on  His ;  thy  weary  doubts 

Forever  cease. 
Thy  heart  shall  find  in  Him,  and  in  His  grace, 

Its  rest  and  bliss. 

BONAR. 
[295] 


OCTOBER   SIXTEENTH. 

T  ET  your  heart  be  full  of  thankfulness  and  praise 
J — '  to-day  !  Walk  out  into  the  October  sunshine,  and 
breathe  in  the  spicy  odors.  Go  for  a  drive  in  the 
country,  if  you  can;  it  will  do  you  good.  The  autum- 
nal breeze  is  so  refreshing,  and  the  woods,  kindled 
with  their  last  dying  fires,  are  a  beautiful  sight.  The 
orchards  are  losing  their  fruited  store  day  by  day,  and 
you  can  hear  the  song  of  the  harvesters  as  they  gather 
in  their  winter  hoard.  Thank  God  for  the  harvest  ! 
Bless  Him  that  the  year  has  been  an  abundant  one, 
and  that  He  hath  given  the  earth  a  goodly  increase  ! 

To  Thee,  Creator  of  all  good, 
Who  givest  life,  and  health  and  food, 
Sing  we  Alleluia  ! 

Praise  to  God,  immortal  praise, 
For  the  love  that  crowns  our  days ! 
Beauteous  source  of  every  joy, 
Let  Thy  praise  our  tongues  employ. 
For  the  blessings  of  the  field, 
For  the  stores  the  gardens  yield ; 
For  the  fruits  in  full  supply, 
Ripened  'neath  the  Summer  sky ;  — 
All  that  Spring  with  bounteous  hand 
Scatters  o'er  the  smiling  land  ; 
All  that  liberal  Autumn  pours 
From  her  rich  o'erflowing  stores  ; 
These,  to  Thee,  my  Lord,  we  owe, 
Source  whence  all  our  blessings  flow ; 
And  for  these  my  soul  shall  raise 
Grateful  vows  and  solemn  praise. 

ANNA  LETITIA   BARBAULD. 
[296] 


OCTOBER   SEVENTEENTH. 

SUBMIT  yourself  to  the  inevitable.  How  often  this 
is  said!  Do  not  allow  your  temper  to  become 
ruffled  over  trifles  ;  be  happy  in  spite  of  circumstances  ; 
be  hopeful  in  the  face  of  discouragements.  Carry  a 
cheerful  countenance  about  with  you.  The  man  who 
is  out  of  work,  if  he  only  holds  up  his  head  and  smiles, 
and  hopes  for  better  things,  is  much  more  apt  to 
secure  employment  than  the  one  who  goes  around  with 
a  mournful,  dejected  look,  seeing  nothing  but  the  dark 
side  of  everything.  Life  cannot  be  all  brightness, 
neither  is  it  all  shadow;  we  have  our  share  of  both. 
You  think  you  have  more  sorrows  than  joys,  more 
adversity  then  prosperity,  more  bitter  than  sweet  in 
your  life.  Do  you  know  why  you  believe  this?  Be- 
cause you  forgot  to  count  your  blessings.  You  are 
only  looking  out  for  the  trials  and  ills  of  life,  and  when 
they  come  you  put  on  a  dejected  air,  and  say  sadly, 
"  It  is  no  more  than  I  expected."  Look  out  for  the 
bright  things,  —  there  are  plenty  of  them  in  store  for 
you,  and  when  God  allows  you  to  walk  in  the  shadow 
make  the  best  of  it,  and  you  will  \>e  all  the  better  for 
it. 

A  cheerful  temper,  joined  with  innocence,  will  make 
beauty  attractive,  knowledge  delightful,  and  wit  good- 
natured.  —  ADDISON. 

What  I  don't  see 

Don't  trouble  me ; 
And  what  I  see 

Might  trouble  me, 
Did  I  not  know 

That  it  must  be  so. 

GOETHE. 

[297] 


OCTOBER   EIGHTEENTH. 

BUILD  for  Heaven!  Keep  climbing  up  by  little 
things ;  let  your  commonplace,  every-day  life  be 
an  honor  to  yourself  and  your  God.  Things  that  seem 
so  insignificant  and  mean  to-day,  may  grow  beautiful 
by  to-morrow.  Look  at  the  night-blooming  cereus :  it 
is  nothing  but  a  reddish-brown  folded  bud  to-day,  but 
in  the  silence  and  darkness  of  the  night  it  bursts  into 
exquisite  beauty  and  fragrance.  God  sometimes  lays 
His  dear  Hand  on  one  of  His  beloved,  and  says,  "  Be 
still,  and  know  that  I  am  God."  He  whispers  tenderly, 
"  Be  patient  and  I  will  teach  thee  beautiful  lessons,  and 
thou  shalt  be  adorned  with  grace  that  thou  couldst  not 
otherwise  obtain."  But  the  soul-bud,  so  long  folded  in 
the  shallow  frivolities  of  earthly  happiness,  feels  for  the 
first  time  the  warm,  pure  breath  of  Heaven  blowing 
upon  it,  and  begins  to  expand,  until  it  becomes  a 
blossom  of  rare  fragrance,  fit  to  be  transplanted  in  the 
Garden  of  God. 

No  cross,  no  crown  —  no  loss,  no  gain  ; 
They  first  must  suffer  who  would  reign. 

He  best  can  part  with  life  without  a  sigh 
Whose  daily  living  is  to  daily  die. 

Youth  builds  for  age  ;  age  builds  for  rest ; 
Who  builds  for  Heaven  will  build  the  best. 

SPURGEON. 

Out  of  suffering  comes  the  serious  mind  ;  out  of  sal- 
vation, the  grateful  heart ;  out  of  endurance,  fortitude ; 
out  of  deliverance,  faith.  —  RUSKIN. 

The  truest  end  of  life  is  to  know  the  life  that  never 
ends.  —  WILLIAM  PENN. 

[298] 


OCTOBER   NINETEENTH. 

A  TIME  of  ripened  fruits  and  scattered  seeds. 
Was  ever  time  so  beautiful  ?  The  year,  from  its 
beginning,  has  been  making  preparation  for  this ;  you 
have  been  looking  forward  to  it,  no  matter  what  your 
business  is,  —  everything  depends  upon  the  harvest. 
A  farmer  toils  all  Spring,  and  waits  all  Summer  for  it. 
Man  revives  with  the  first  breath  of  Autumn,  and  its 
cool  breezes  are  a  tonic  to  body  and  mind. 

Season  of  mists  and  mellow  fruitfulness! 

Close  bosom-friend  of  the  maturing  sun ; 
Conspiring  with  him  how  to  load  and  bless 

With  fruit  the  vines  that  round  the  thatch-eaves  run ; 
To  bend  with  apples  the  mossed  cottage-trees, 

And  fill  all  fruit  with  ripeness  to  the  core  ; 

To  swell  the  gourd  and  plump  the  hazel  shells 
With  a  sweet  kernel ;  to  set  budding  more, 

And  still  more,  later  flowers  for  the  bees, 

Until  they  think  warm  days  will  never  cease. 

For  Summer  has  o'erbrimmed  their  clammy  cells. 

Where  are  the  songs  of  spring?     Ay,  where  are  they? 

Think  not  of  them,  thou  hast  thy  music  too, 
While  barred  clouds  bloom  the  soft  dying  day, 

And  touch  the  stubble-plains  with  rosy  hue ; 
Then  in  a  wilful  choir  the  small  gnats  mourn 

Among  the  river  sallows,  borne  aloft 

Or  sinking  as  the  light  wind  lives  or  dies ; 
And  full-grown  lambs  loud  bleat  from  hilly  bourn ; 

Hedge-crickets  sing ;  and  now  with  treble  soft 

The  redbreast  whistles  from  a  garden  croft, 
And  gathering  swallows  twitter  from  the  skies. 

KEATS. 

[299] 


OCTOBER   TWENTIETH. 

WORK  while  it  is  called  to-day, 
Watch  and  pray! 

With  both  thine  hands  right  earnestly, 
As  in  the  sight  of  God  most  high, 
Thy  calling  ply. 

HENRY   G.    TOMKINS. 

Not  a  prayer,  not  an  act  of  faithfulness  in  your  call- 
ing, not  a  self-denying  or  kind  word  or  deed,  done  out 
of  love  for  Himself;  not  a  weariness  or  painfulness  en- 
dured patiently  ;  not  a  duty  performed  ;  not  a  tempta- 
tion resisted ;  but  it  enlarges  the  whole  soul  for  the 
endless  capacity  of  the  love  of  God.  — E.  B.  PUSEY. 

Do  nothing  without  a  purpose,  and  let  that  purpose 
be  to  glorify  God.  Let  every  duty  be  done  in  His 
name,  and  every  kindness  done  for  His  sake.  Let  each 
day's  work  be  rounds  upon  which  you  shall  climb  to 
Heaven. 

Work  while  life  is  given ; 

Faint  not,  although  'tis  hard ; 
Work  is  the  will  of  Heaven, 

And  peace  is  the  reward! 
All  work  is  holy. 


Scorn  nought  as  plain  or  mean ; 

All  with  thy  work  impress, 
That  all  where  thou  hast  been 

May  day  by  day  confess 
That  work  is  holy. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[300] 


OCTOBER  TWENTY-FIRST. 

I  LOVE  and  love  not :  Lord,  it  breaks  my  heart 
To  love  and  not  to  love. 
Thou  veiled  within  Thy  glory,  gone  apart 

Into  Thy  shrine,  which  is  above, 
Dost  Thou  not  love  me,  Lord,  or  care 

For  this  mine  ill  ?  — 
/  love  thee  here  or  there, 

I  will  accept  thy  broken  heart :  lie  still. 

Lord,  it  was  well  with  me  in  time  gone  by 

That  cometh  not  again, 
When  I  was  fresh  and  cheerful,  who  but  I  ? 

I  fresh,  I  cheerful :  worn  with  pain 
Now,  out  of  sight  and  out  of  heart ; 

0  Lord,  how  long  ?  — 
/  watch  thee  as  thou  art, 

1  will  accept  thy  fainting  heart :  be  strong. 

"  Lie  still,"  "  Be  strong,"  to-day  ;  but  Lord,  to-morrow, 

What  of  to-morrow,  Lord  ? 
Shall  there  be  rest  from  toil,  be  truce  from  sorrow, 

Be  living  green  upon  the  sward 
Now  but  a  barren  grave  to  me, 

Be  joy  for  sorrow  ?  — 
Did  I  not  die  for  thee  ? 

Do  not  I  live  for  thee  ?    Leave  Me  to-morrow. 

CHRISTINA  ROSSETTI. 

If  we  were  but  contented  to  leave  God  all  our  to- 
morrows we  would  not  fret  and  worry  so  about  them. 
How  faithless  we  are  !  Oh,  let  us  learn  the  lesson  of 
submission.  Let  us  give  our  all  into  His  keeping,  — 
trials,  cares,  perplexities,  heartaches ;  He  wants  them 
all.  Shall  we  not  trust  Him  with  everything? 
[301] 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-SECOND. 

IF  you  have  any  special  gift,  make  use  of  it.  That 
you  have  some  gift,  cannot  be  doubted.  Perhaps  it 
is  music ;  if  so,  let  your  talent  be  cultivated,  that  it  may 
brighten  other  hearts,  and  sing  itself  into  other  souls. 
The  noble  band  of  King's  Daughters,  who  send  out 
messengers  into  our  hospitals  and  charitable  institu- 
tions, sometimes  select  from  their  number  a  sweet 
minstrel,  who  pours  forth  a  gush  of  melody  to  cheer 
the  suffering  and  afflicted  ones ;  it  is  like  a  bit  of 
Heaven  to  them.  Those  who  possess  the  gift  of  song 
may  not  recognize  it  at  all ;  and  yet  their  lives  are  un- 
written music,  to  which  God  strikes  the  key,  and  sets 
the  chords  in  harmony.  May  He  give  you  some  pure 
influence,  —  some  song  turned  to  His  love  to  sing  for 
His  glory! 

If  a  pilgrim  has  been  shadowed 

By  a  tree  that  I  have  nursed  ; 
If  a  cup  of  cold,  clear  water 

I  have  raised  to  lips  athirst ; 
If  I've  planted  one  sweet  flower 

By  an  else  too  barren  way ; 
If  I've  whispered  in  the  midnight 

One  sweet  word  of  day  ; 
If  in  one  poor  bleeding  bosom 

I  a  woe-swept  chord  have  stilled ; 
If  a  dark  and  restless  spirit 

I  with  hope  of  Heaven  have  stilled ; 
If  I've  made  of  life's  hard  battle 

One  faint  heart  grow  warm  and  strong ; 
Then,  my  God  !    I  thank  Thee  — bless  Thee 

For  the  precious  gift  of  song. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[302] 


D 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-THIRD. 

EAR  Heart,  keep  steadily  on  thy  way,  ever  trust- 
ing, ever  singing! 


The  little  birds  trust  God,  for  they  go  singing, 
From  northern  woods   where    autumn   winds   have 
blown, 

With  joyous  faith  their  trackless  pathway  winging 
To  summer-lands  of  song,  afar,  unknown. 

Let  us  go  singing,  then,  and  not  go  sighing. 

Since  we  are  sure  our  times  are  in  His  hand, 
Why  should  we  weep,  and  fear,  and  call  it  dying? 

'Tis  only  flitting  to  a  Summer-land. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Glad  is  the  October  sunshine,  for  it  beams  so  full 
and  free,  and  the  Wind  spreads  wide  and  wider,  with  a 
wing  on  earth  and  sea;  and  a  later  crop  of  apples 
hangs  well-freighted  from  the  tree.  Heart,  rejoice,  the 
year  is  ripe  !  Sing,  O  Heart,  and  cease  thy  grieving ! 
Though  thy  Summer  slips  away,  though  the  beauty  of 
the  Autumn  lose  its  gold  and  scarlet  dye,  there  is  wait- 
ing for  thy  coming  God's  blest  Summer,  by  and  by  ! 

How  calmly  may  we  commit  ourselves  to  the  hands 
of  Him  who  bears  up  the  world  —  of  Him  who  has 
created  and  who  provides  for  the  joys,  even  of  insects, 
as  carefully  as  if  He  were  their  father!  —  RICHTER. 

If  our  love  were  but  more  simple, 
We  should  take  Him  at  His  word  ; 

And  our  lives  would  be  all  sunshine 
In  the  sweetness  of  our  Lord. 

FABER. 

[303] 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

LEAD  us,  dear  Lord,  this  day  in  the  green  pastures 
of  Thy  love,  and  by  the  still  waters  of  Thy  peace  ! 
Feed  us,  dear  Lord,  with  "  food  convenient  for  us," 
and  suffer  us  not  to  want  for  any  good  thing.  Thou 
art  abundantly  able  to  supply  all  our  needs,  out  of 
Thy  great  plenty,  therefore  we  pray  Thee  that,  as 
"giving  doth  not  impoverish  Thee,  nor  withholding 
enrich  Thee,"  we,  Thy  little  flock,  may  be  kindly  fed 
and  tended,  and  that  when  the  night  cometh,  we  may 
be  gathered  safely  into  Thy  Fold  ! 

When  I  faint  with  summer's  heat, 
Thou  shalt  guide  my  weary  feet 
To  the  streams,  that  still  and  slow, 
Through  the  verdant  meadows  flow. 

MERRICK. 

Thy  sheep  shall  hear  Thy  voice,  on  plain  and  hill, 

Through  flood  or  wilderness, 
In  the  green  pastures,  by  the  waters  still, 

In  joy  or  sharp  distress, 
Thy  call  will  reach  them,  sometimes  loud  and  near, 

Then  faint  and  far  away ; 
O  thou  good  Shepherd  !  grant  that  heart  and  ear 

May  listen  and  obey! 

SARAH   DOUDNEY. 

Thou  layest  Thy  hand  on  the  fluttering  heart, 

And  sayest,  "  Be  still ! " 
The  silence  and  shadow  are  only  a  part 

Of  Thy  sweet  will ; 
Thy  presence  is  with  me,  and  where  Thou  art 

I  fear  no  ill. 

F.  R.  HAVERGAL. 
t304] 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

ART  thou  weary  ?     Dear  tired  heart,  be  comforted : 
thou  shalt  have  sweet  rest  by  and  by.     Beyond 
earth's  cares  and  sorrows  and  shadows,  there  waits  for 
Christ's  beloved  a  never-ending  rest. 

Rest  remaineth  —  oh,  how  sweet, 
Flowery  fields  for  wandering  feet, 
Peaceful  calm  for  sleepless  eyes, 
Life  for  death,  and  songs  for  sighs. 

Rest  remaineth  —  hush  that  sigh  ; 
Mourning  pilgrim,  rest  is  nigh ; 
Yet  a  season  bright  and  blest, 
Thou  shalt  enter  on  thy  rest. 

Rest  remaineth  —  rest  from  sin  — 
Guilt  can  never  enter  in  ; 
Every  warring  thought  shall  cease  — 
Rest  in  purity  and  peace. 

Rest  remaineth  —  rest  from  tears, 
Rest  from  parting,  rest  from  fears ; 
Every  trembling  thought  shall  be 
Lost,  my  Saviour — lost  in  Thee. 

Rest  remaineth  —  oh,  how  blest ! 
We  believe,  and  we  have  rest ; 
Faith,  reposing  faith,  hath  been 
'Mongst  the  things  that  are  not  seen. 

Thus,  my  Saviour,  let  me  be 
Ever  here  at  rest  in  Thee, 
And  at  last,  by  Thee  possessed, 
On  Thy  bosom  sink  to  rest. 

FROM  "DARK  SAYINGS  ON  A  HARP." 
[305] 


OCTOBER  TWENTY-SIXTH. 

npHE  flood  of  time  is  rolling  on, 
-L    We  stand  upon  its  brink,  .  .  . 
To  glide  in  peace  down  death's  mysterious  stream. 
Have  you  done  well? 

SHELLEY. 

Look  into  your  heart  this  autumn  day,  and  ask  your- 
self this  question,  "  Have  I  done  well  ?  "  Through 
each  changing  season,  while  the  leaf  has  unfolded, 
taken  on  its  rich  green  color,  and  fluttered  out  into 
the  air  and  sunshine  ;  while  it  grew  and  waxed  strong 
and  spread  itself,  with  a  million  other  leaves,  to  make 
a  restful,  cooling  shade ;  while  it  turned  gold,  and 
crimson,  and  then  russet  brown,  and  lastly  ashen  gray, 
ere  it  plumed  itself  for  flight,  —  ah,  what  have  you  been 
doing?  Have  you  done  well  ?  Has  your  soul  been 
making  preparation  for  Heaven  ?  As  within  the  grape 
the  sweet  crimson  juice  is  hidden,  waiting  for  the  wine- 
press to  crush  it,  and  for  the  refiner  to  clarify  it,  so  the 
soul's  fruits  should  reach  fruition  through  passing 
seasons ;  until,  crushed  and  sweetened  by  the  Master 
of  the  Vineyard,  it  becomes  a  strengthening  draught  to 
all  around  it.  Learn,  then,  the  lesson  of  the  Grape 
and  of  the  Leaf. 

The  Wine  of  Life  keeps  oozing  drop  by  drop, 
The  Leaves  of  Life  keep  falling  one  by  one. 

Ah,  with  the  Grape  my  fading  Life  provide, 
And  wash  the  Body  whence  the  Life  has  died, 

And  lay  me,  shrouded  in  the  living  Leaf, 
By  some  not  unfrequented  Garden-side. 

OMAR   KHAYYAM. 
[306] 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

IF  thou  wouldst  be  happy,  thou  must  be  useful. 
Make  thyself  necessary  wherever  thy  lot  is  cast ; 
make  thy  work  acceptable  whatever  it  is ;  honour  thy 
calling,  no  matter  how  lowly,  and  then  thou  shalt  be 
royal  in  the  sight  of  God.  Mount  upward,  press  for- 
ward, and  let  every  day  be  well  and  profitably  spent, 
for  the  time  appointed  for  thee  is  short,  and  life's  brief 
day  soon  draweth  to  a  close. 

There  will  be  sorrow 
Beyond  to-morrow,  if  I  lose  to-day. 

ARTHUR  J.    MUNBY. 

We  have  not  wings,  and  we  cannot  soar ; 

But  we  have  feet  to  scale  and  climb 
By  slow  degrees,  by  more  and  more, 

The  cloudy  summits  of  our  time. 

TENNYSON. 

All  things  have  something  more  than  barren  use ; 

There  is  a  scent  upon  the  briar, 
A  tremulous  splendour  in  the  Autumn  dews ; 

Cold  morns  are  fringed  with  fire. 

The  clodded  earth  goes  up  in  sweet-breathed  flowers ; 

In  music  dies  poor  human  speech  ; 
And  in  beauty  blow  those  hearts  of  ours 

When  love  is  born  in  each. 

Life  is  transfigured  in  the  soft  and  tender 

Light  of  love,  a  volume  dun 
Of  rolling  smoke  becomes  a  wreathed  splendour 

In  the  declining  sun. 

ALEXANDER   SMITH. 
[307] 


OCTOBER    TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

TRUE  happiness  never  flows  into  a  man,  but  always 
out  of  him.     Heaven  itself  is  more  internal  than 
external.  —  NEWMAN. 


Happiness  is  a  perfume  that  cannot  shed  over 
another,  without  a  few  drops  falling  on  one's  self.  — 
BYRON. 

The  happy  man  is  he  that  hath  learned  to  read  him- 
self more  than  all  books ;  and  hath  so  taken  out  his 
lesson  that  he  can  never  forget  it ;  that  knows  the 
world,  and  cares  not  for  it ;  that  after  many  traverses 
of  thoughts,  is  grown  to  know  what  he  may  trust  to, 
and  stands  now  equally  armed  for  all  events.  —  JOSEPH 
HALL. 

The  hearts  of  men  are  their  books ;  events  are  their 
tutors ;  great  actions  are  their  eloquence.  —  MACAULAY. 

If  Happiness  has  not  her  seat 

And  centre  in  the  breast, 
We  may  be  wise,  or  rich,  or  great, 

But  never  can  be  blest. 

BURNS. 

True  happiness  is  not  the  growth  of  earth, 
The  soil  is  fruitless  if  you  seek  it  there ; 
1  Tis  an  exotic  of  celestial  birth, 
And  never  blooms  but  in  celestial  air. 
Sweet  plant  of  Paradise!  its  seeds  are  sown 
In  here  and  there  abreast  of  heavenly  mould, 
It  rises  slow,  and  buds,  but  ne'er  was  known 
To  blossom  here  —  the  climate  is  too  cold. 

RICHARD   BRINSLEY   SHERIDAN. 

[308] 


OCTOBER   TWENTY-NINTH. 

ONLY  Heaven  is  high. 
Only  the  gods  are  great. 
Above  the  searchless  sky, 
In  unremoved  state, 
They  from  their  golden  mansions 
Look  over  the  lands  and  the  seas ; 
The  ocean's  wide  expanses, 
And  the  earth's  varieties  : 
Secure  of  their  supremacy, 
And  sure  of  affluent  ease. 
Who  shall  say,  "I  stand!  "  nor  fall? 
Destiny  is  over  all ! 
Rust  will  crumble  old  renown. 
Bust  and  column  tumble  down  ; 
Keep  and  castle ;  tower  and  town  ; 
Throne  and  sceptre ;  crest  and  crown. 
Destiny  is  over  all! 
One  by  one  the  pale  guests  fall 
At  lighted  feasts,  in  palace  hall ; 
And  feast  is  turned  to  funeral. 
Who  shall  say,  "  I  stand!  "  nor  fall? 
Destiny  is  over  all. 

OWEN   MEREDITH. 


It  is  a  proverbial  saying,  that  every  one  makes  his 
own  destiny ;  and  this  is  usually  interpreted,  that  every 
one,  by  his  wise  or  unwise  conduct,  prepares  good  or 
evil  for  himself:  but  we  may  also  understand  it,  that 
whatever  it  be  that  he  receives  from  the  hand  of  Prov- 
idence, he  may  so  accommodate  himself  to  it,  that  he 
will  find  his  lot  good  for  him,  however  much  may  seem 
to  others  to  be  wanting.  —  WILLIAM  VON  HUMBOLDT. 
[309] 


OCTOBER   THIRTIETH. 

DEATH  and  love  are  the  two  wings 
Which  bear  man  from  earth  to  Heaven. 

MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

What  an  empty  world  this  would  be  without  love ! 
It  is  the  magnetic  needle  that  draws  all  hearts  together 
in  one  common  bond  of  humanity.  It  is  the  heart  of 
Religion,  the  basis  of  Benevolence,  the  twin-sister  of 
Pity,  and  the  foundation  of  home. 

But  Love's  a  flower  that  will  not  die 

For  lack  of  leafy  screen, 
And  Christian  Hope  can  cheer  the  eye 

That  ne'er  saw  vernal  green ; 
Then  be  ye  sure  that  Love  can  bless 
E'en  in  this  crowded  loneliness. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Hid  in  earth's  mines  of  silver, 

Floating  in  clouds  above, 
Ringing  in  Autumn's  tempest, 

Murmured  by  every  dove,  — 
One  thought  fills  God's  creation, 

His  own  great  name  of  Love. 

ADELAIDE   PROCTER. 

I  cannot  go 

Where  universal  love  not  smiles  around, 
Sustains  all  yon  orbs,  and  all  their  suns ; 
From  seeming  evil  still  educing  good, 
And  better  thence  again,  and  better  still, 
In  infinite  progression.     But  I  lose 
Myself  in  Him,  in  light  ineffable! 
Come,  then,  expressive  silence,  muse  His  praise. 

THOMSON. 


OCTOBER  THIRTY-FIRST. 

LET   the  golden  month   go  out   in  prayer.     Have 
thou  thine  own  pure  prayer,  to  suit   thy  needs, 
and  breathe  secretly  in  the  listening  ear  of  Heaven! 


0  Master  and  Maker!  my  hope  is  in  Thee ; 
My  Jesus,  dear  Saviour!  now  get  my  soul  free 
From  this  my  hard  prison,  my  spirit  uprisen 

Soars  upward  to  Thee. 
Thus  moaning,  and  groaning,  and  bending  the  knee, 

1  adore  and  implore  that  Thou  liberate  me. 

TR.  OF  PRAYER  OF  MARY  STUART,  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS. 
(  Written  before  her  execution.') 


Awake  in  me  desires  for  Heaven! 

Help  me  to  view  the  world  aright ; 
Far  from  my  heart  its  wiles  be  driven 

While  endless  joys  allure  my  sight : 
For  Jesus'  sake,  when  flesh  shall  fail, 
With  me,  O  God,  may  it  be  well ! 

AMELIA  JULIANA,  COUNTESS  OF  SCHUARZBURG. 


Father  in  Heaven !  oh,  hear  when  we  call, 

Hear  for  Christ's  sake,  who  is  Saviour  of  all ; 

Feeble  and  fainting  we  trust  in  Thy  might, 

In  doubting  and  darkness  Thy  love  be  our  light : 

Let  us  sleep  on  Thy  breast  while  the  night  taper  burns, 

And  wake  in  Thy  arms  when  the  morning  returns. 

Father,  have  mercy  ;  Father,  have  mercy ; 

Father,  have  mercy  thro'  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

SELINA,    COUNTESS   OF   HUNTINGDON. 
[3"] 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF    NOVEMBER 


NOVEMBER   FIRST. 

IT  is  November.  May  you  be  at  peace  with  all  the 
world,  and  may  you  look  up  into  the  gray  sky  and 
see  beyond  its  shadows  the  Light  of  the  Eternal,  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness  that  declines  not  with  the 
brooding  Autumn  days,  but  steadfast,  pure,  and  clear, 
shines  gloriously  forever.  Abiding  peace  is  there. 

Down  below,  the  wild  November  whistling. 

Through  the  beeches'  dome  of  burning  red, 
And  the  Autumn  sprinkling  penitential 

Dust  and  ashes  on  the  chestnut's  head. 

Up  above,  the  Tree  with  leaf  unfading 

By  the  everlasting  River's  brink  : 
And  the  Sea  of  Glass  beyond  whose  margin 

Never  yet  the  Sun  was  known  to  sink. 

W.  ALEXANDER. 

But  peace  was  there  :  no  lightnings  blazed  ; 

No  clouds  obscured  the  face  of  Heaven  ; 
Down  each  green  opening  while  I  gazed, 

My  thoughts  to  Home  and  you  were  given. 
Oh,  tender  minds  !  in  life's  gay  morn, 

Some  clouds  must  dim  your  coming  day  ; 
Yet  bootless  pride  and  falsehood  scorn, 

And  peace  like  this  shall  cheer  your  way. 

ROBERT   BLOOMFIELD. 
[3"] 


CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI 
1830-1894 


NOVEMBER   SECOND. 

IT  does  one  good  to  be  alone  sometimes ;  to  throw 
care  to  the  winds,  and  to  walk  among  the  rustling 
leaves,  and  muse  on  life, —  its  changes,  its  beauties,  and 
its  mysteries.  Come  with  me  into  the  dying  woods ; 
look,  how  fast  the  leaves  are  falling!  how  the  winds 
whisper  of  decay,  as  they  sing  their  melancholy  dirge  for 
the  faded  flowers.  But  wait!  among  the  leaves  a  bit 
of  color  peeps,  half-sheltered  by  a  friendly  bush,  a  dear 
memento  of  the  summer  days.  How  loth  is  Nature  yet 
to  lose  the  flowers  she  wore  upon  her  breast. 

We  shall  not  die  nor  disappear, 
But  in  these  other  selves,  ourselves  succeed, 
Even  as  ripe  flowers  pass  into  their  seed 
Only  to  be  renewed  from  prime  to  prime. 

THOMAS   HOOD. 

The  constant  wheels  of  nature  scorn  to  tire 
Until  her  works  expire. 

FRANCIS  QUARLES. 

Those  few  pale  Autumn  flowers, 

How  beautiful  they  are! 
Than  all  that  went  before, 
Than  all  the  Summer  store, 

How  lovelier  far! 

And  why?  —  They  are  the  last! 

The  last!  the  last!  the  last! 
Oh!  by  that  little  word 
How  many  thoughts  are  stirr'd 

That  whisper  of  the  past! 

CAROLINE   SOUTHEY. 
[313] 


NOVEMBER  THIRD. 

NOW  to  Thee,  gracious  Lord  of  the  season,  be  honour 
and  glory  and  praise, 

That  again  in  the  joy  of  the  harvest  our  jubilant  an- 
them we  raise. 

Though  many  the  fears  that  beset  us,  though  faith 
waxes  feeble  and  cold, 

Thy  bow,  with  promise  unbroken,  glitters  still  as  it  glit- 
tered of  old. 

Though  weary  we  grow  in  our  watching  the  weeks  of 

the  drought  as  they  pass, 
When  the  earth  is  as  iron  beneath  us,  and  the  heaven 

above  us  as  brass. 

Yet  the  showers  come  back  in  their  season ;  once  more 

in  the  land  they  are  seen, 
The  brook  brimming  over  with  crystals,  the  grass  as 

the  emerald  green. 

Though  troubled  the  spirit  within  us,  when  the  mist 

upon  valley  and  plain 
Lies  thick,  and  the  clouds  in  their  armies  return  again 

after  the  rain. 

Yet  the  sun  cometh  forth  as  a  giant,  and  after  the  Tem- 
pest the  morn 

Is  cloudless  and  fair,  and  the  colour  grows  golden  and 
rich  on  the  corn. 

For  seedtime  and  harvest  we  thank  Thee;  our  fears 

as  the  shadows  have  fled ; 
Thou  hast  given  his  seed  to  the  sower,  Thou  hast  given 

the  eater  his  bread. 

ALFRED   CHURCH. 


NOVEMBER  FOURTH. 

MAY  thy  soul  be  as  beautiful  as  the  Autumn  star- 
light, which  silvers  all  the  sleeping  world.     Thou 
needst  not  make  any  stir  or  commotion, —  only  shine. 
Shine  as  if  God  were  reflected  from  thy  being. 

There  is  no  end  to  the  Sky, 

And  the  stars  are  everywhere. 

HENRY  BURTON. 

It  was  an  eve  of  Autumn's  holiest  mood, 
.  .  .  Nature  seemed 
In  silent  contemplation  to  adore 
Its  Maker.     Now  and  then  the  aged  leaf 
Fell  from  its  fellows,  rustling  to  the  ground ; 
And,  as  it  fell,  bade  man  think  on  his  end, 
On  vale  and  lake,  on  wood  and  mountain  high, 
With  pensive  wing  outspread,  sat  heavenly  Thought, 
Conversing  with  itself.   .  .  . 
And  up  the  east,  unclouded,  rode  the  moon 
With  all  her  stars,  gazing  on  earth  intense, 
As  if  she  saw  some  wonder  working  there. 

ROBERT  POLLOCK. 

Ye  stars!  which  are  the  poetry  of  Heaven, 
If  in  your  bright  leaves  we  would  read  the  fate 
Of  men  and  empires,  —  'tis  to  be  forgiven 
That  in  our  aspirations  to  be  great 
Our  destinies  o'erlap  their  moral  state, 
And  claim  a  kindred  with  you  ;  for  ye  are 
A  beauty  and  a  mystery,  and  create 
In  us  such  love  and  reverence  from  afar, 
That  fortune,  fame,  power,  life,  have  named  themselves 
a  star. 

BYRON. 
[315] 


NOVEMBER   FIFTH. 

MAY  God  preserve  and  keep  thee,  "  merrie  Eng- 
land," noble  and  illustrious  country  as  thou  art ! 
and  in  every  time  of  danger  mayst  thou  be  protected, 
thy  fair  name  be  ever  writ  in  shining  letters,  and  thy 
rulers  be  found  worthy  of  thee ! 

England,  with  all  thy  faults,  I  love  thee  still, 
My  Country!  and,  while  yet  a  nook  is  left 
Where  English  mind  and  manners  may  be  found, 
Shall  be  constrain'd  to  love  thee. 

COWPER. 

Happy  is  England !  I  could  be  content 
To  see  no  other  verdure  than  its  own ; 
To  feel  no  other  breezes  than  are  blown 

Through  its  tall  woods  with  high  romances  blent. 

KEATS. 

Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 
This  is  my  own,  my  native  land! 
Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  burn'd, 
As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turn'd, 
From  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand ! 

SCOTT. 

Dear  home  in  England,  safe  and  fast, 
If  but  in  thee  my  lot  be  cast, 
The  past  shall  seem  a  nothing  past 
To  thee,  dear  home,  if  won  at  last ; 
Dear  home  in  England,  won  at  last. 

ARTHUR   HUGH   CLOUGH. 
[316] 


NOVEMBER   SIXTH. 

HOW  sweet  it  is,  that  no  one  can  ever  take  the 
place  of  those  we  have  loved  and  lost :  they  have 
their  own  sacred  corner  in  our  hearts,  their  own  hal- 
lowed shrine  in  our  memory.  New  friends  may  endear 
themselves  to  us,  but  they  never  fill  the  vacancies 
made  by  those  who  have  passed  out  of  our  sight  into 
the  Better  Country. 

How  much  so  ever  in  life's  mutations 

We  seek  our  shattered  idols  to  replace, 
Not  one  in  all  the  myriads  of  the  nations 

Can  ever  fill  another's  vacant  place. 

Each  has  his  own,  the  smallest  and  most  humble, 
As  well  as  he,  revered  the  wide  world  through ; 

With  every  death  some  love  and  hope  must  crumble, 
Which  strive  to  build  themselves  anew. 

If  the  fair  face  of  violets  should  perish 
Before  another  springtime  had  its  birth, 

Could  all  the  costly  blooms  which  florists  cherish 
Bring  back  its  April  beauty  to  the  earth? 

Not  the  most  gorgeous  flower  that  uncloses 
Could  give  the  olden  grace  to  vale  and  plain, 

Not  even  Persia's  gardens  full  of  roses, 
Could  ever  make  the  world  so  fair  again. 

And  so  with  souls  we  love ;  they  pass  and  leave  us  — 

Time  teaches  patience  at  a  bitter  cost ; 
Yet  all  the  new  loves,  which  the  years  may  give  us, 

Fill  not  the  heart-place  aching  for  the  lost. 

ANONYMOUS. 
[3173 


NOVEMBER   SEVENTH. 

BE  diligent,  after  thy  power,  to  do  deeds  of  love. 
Think  nothing  too  little,  nothing  too  low,  to  do 
lovingly  for  the  sake  of  God.  Bear  with  infirmities, 
ungentle  tempers,  contradictions  ;  visit  the  sick,  relieve 
the  poor ;  forego  thyself  and  thine  own  ways  for  love  ; 
and  He  whom  in  them  thou  lovest,  to  whom  in  them 
thou  ministerest,  will  own  thy  love,  and  will  pour  His 
own  love  into  thee.  —  E.  B.  PUSEY. 


The  memory  of  a  kindly  word 

For  long  gone  by, 
The  fragrance  of  a  fading  flower 

Sent  lovingly ; 
The  gleaming  of  a  sudden  smile 

Or  sudden  tear, 
The  warmer  pressure  of  the  hand, 

The  tone  of  cheer ; 
The  hush  that  means  I  cannot  speak, 

But  I  have  heard! 
The  note  that  only  bears  a  verse 

Of  God's  own  word ; 
Such  tiny  things  we  hardly  count 

As  ministry ; 
The  givers  deeming  they  have  shone 

Scant  sympathy ; 
But  when  the  heart  is  overwrought, 

Oh!  who  can  tell 
The  power  of  such  tiny  things 

To  make  it  well ! 

FRANCES   RIDLEY   HAVERGAL. 

Let  this  be  a  day  of  sweet  ministrations. 


M 


NOVEMBER    EIGHTH. 

SOME  THOUGHTS  ABOUT  MAN. 

ARK  the  perfect  man,  and  behold  the  upright : 
for  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace.  —  PSALM  37 :  37. 


In  this  world  there  is  one  godlike  thing,  the  essence 
of  all  that  ever  was  or  ever  will  be  of  godlike  in  this 
world,  —  the  veneration  done  to  human  worth  by  the 
hearts  of  men.  —  CARLYLE. 

The  good  great  man?  three  treasures,  love  and  light 
And  calm  thoughts  regular  as  infant's  breath, 
And  three  firm  friends,  more  sure  than  day  and  night, 
Himself,  his  Maker,  and  the  angel  Death. 

COLERIDGE. 

Men  in  great  place  are  thrice  servants ;  servants  of 
the  Sovereign  or  state  ;  servants  of  fame ;  and  servants 
of  business.  —  BURNS. 

Man  dwells  apart,  though  not  alone, 

He  walks  among  his  peers  unread  ; 
The  best  of  thoughts  which  he  hath  known, 

For  lack  of  listeners  are  not  said. 

JEAN   INGELOW. 

Man  was  mark'd 

A  friend  in  his  creation  to  himself, 
And  may  with  fit  ambition  conceive 
The  greatest  blessings,  and  the  brightest  honours 
Appointed  for  him,  if  he  can  achieve  them 
The  right  and  noble  way. 

PHILIP  MASSINGER. 
[319] 


NOVEMBER   NINTH. 

HPHOUGH  you  may  be  surrounded  by  the  fog  and 
-A-  mist,  let  your  heart  keep  its  sunshine,  sending  out 
bright  rays  to  guide  and  lead  through  the  darkness 
some  one  whose  love  and  faith  in  humanity  is  shrouded 
in  a  mist  of  doubt. 

First,  at  the  dawn  of  lingering  day, 
It  rises  of  an  ashen  gray ; 
Then  deepening  with  a  sordid  strain 
Of  yellow,  like  a  lion's  mane. 
Scarce  an  eclipse,  with  pall  so  dun, 
Blots  from  the  face  of  Heaven  the  sun. 
But  soon  a  thicker,  darker  cloak 
Wraps  all  the  town,  behold  in  smoke, 
Which  steam  —  compelling  trade  disgorges 
From  all  her  furnaces  and  forges 
In  pitchy  clouds,  too  dense  to  rise, 
Descends  rejected  from  the  skies  ; 
Till  struggling  day,  extinguished  quite, 
At  noon  gives  place  to  candle-light. 

HENRY   LUTTRELL. 

No  sun  —  no  moon ! 
No  morn  —  no  noon  — 

No  dawn  —  no  dusk  —  no  proper  time  of  day  — 
No  sky  —  no  earthly  view  — 


No  warmth,  no  cheerfulness,  no  healthful  ease, 
No  comfortable  feel  in  any  member  — 

No  shade,  no  sun,  no  butterflies,  no  bees, 
No  fruits,  no  flowers,  no  leaves,  no  birds, 
November! 

HOOD. 

[320] 


NOVEMBER   TENTH. 

HPHESE  "  gray  days  "  give  us  plenty  of  time  for 
J-  thought.  Let  us  enter  the  "  living  room  "  of  our 
brain,  and  spend  a  little  time  with  silent  Thought. 
How  kind  our  dear  Heavenly  Father  was  to  give  us 
this  means  of  communing  with  Him,  and  of  contem- 
plating His  goodness! 

Our  great  thoughts,  our  great  affections,  the  truths 
of  our  life  never  leave  us.  Surely  they  cannot  sepa- 
rate from  our  consciousness,  shall  follow  it  whitherso- 
ever that  shall  go,  and  are  of  their  nature  divine  and 
immortal.  —  THACKERAY. 

Thoughts,  thoughts,  thoughts! 
Rolling  wave-like  on  the  mind's  strange  shore, 
Rustling  leaf-like  through  the  evermore. 

Oh,  that  they  might  follow  God's  good  Hand ! 

W.    ALEXANDER. 

Thought  can  never  be  compared  with  action,  but 
when  it  awakens  in  us  the  image  of  Truth.  — MADAME 

DE   STAEL. 

The  chariot  of  Thought 

Rolls  from  the  world's  ringing  walls  to  its  goal, 
Urged  by  Faith,  the  bright-eyed  charioteer  of  the  Soul. 

OWEN   MEREDITH. 

He  therefore  that  would  govern  his  actions  by  the 
laws  of  virtue,  must  regulate  his  thoughts  by  those  of 
reason.  —  SAMUEL  JOHNSON. 

Reading  seeks,  meditation  finds  ; 
Prayer  asks,  contemplation  tastes. 

ST.   AUGUSTINE. 

[321] 


NOVEMBER   ELEVENTH. 

HE  who  walks  with  God,  who  lives  in  His  presence, 
whose  mind  is  filled  with  the  image  of  wisdom 
far  above  human  wisdom,  goodness  far  above  human 
goodness,  justice  to  which  a  last  appeal  may  be  made 
and  with  whom  justice  will  ever  be  found,  —  he  who 
sees  His  beauty  in  this  garb  of  external  nature,  so  ex- 
quisite an  exposition  of  the  Divine  Mind  —  for  shattered 
and  disordered  as  it  is  by  some  evidently  external  force, 
enough  remains  to  prove  the  beauty,  grace,  and  order 
of  the  unblemished  original ;  —  he  who  does  this  lives 
in  a  new  element ;  his  thoughts,  his  imagination,  his 
views,  are  purified  and  elevated.  —  ANONYMOUS. 

Look  in,  and  see  Christ's  chosen  saint 
In  triumph  wear  his  Christ-like  chain ; 

No  fear  lest  he  should  swerve  or  faint ; 
"  His  life  is  Christ,  his  death  is  gain." 

KEBLE. 

What  shall  we  be  who  have  in  Christ  believed  — 

What,  through  His  grace,  will  be  our  sweet  reward  ? 
Eye  hath  not  seen,  ear  heard,  or  heart  conceived, 

What  God  for  those  who  love  Him  hath  prepared ; 
Let  us  the  steep  ascent  then  boldly  climb, 

Our  toil  and  labour  will  be  well  repaid ; 
Let  us  haste  onward ;  till  in  God's  good  time 

We  reap  the  fruit  —  a  crown  that  doth  not  fade. 

c.  j.  P.  SPITTA. 

Of  simple  understandings,  little  inquisitive,  and  little 
instructed,  are  made  good  Christians,  who  by  reverence 
and  obedience  implicitly  believe,  and  are  constant  in 
their  belief.  —  MONTAIGNE. 

[322] 


NOVEMBER  TWELFTH. 

SOME  people  drift  through  life  without  any  purpose 
or  aim.  They  have  nothing  in  particular  to  do, 
nothing  in  particular  to  interest  them,  and  no  opinion 
worth  listening  to.  What  an  existence  to  lead!  When 
life  presents  such  grand  opportunities  for  doing  good  to 
others,  and  getting  good  for  ourselves,  why  should  any 
one  value  it  so  lightly,  and  make  it  of  so  little  worth 
the  living?  Choose  your  work,  and  try  to  do  it  as  well 
as  you  can.  Make  up  your  mind  about  things ;  have 
some  kind  of  an  opinion,  but  do  not  hug  it  so  close 
that  you  would  not  let  it  go  if  you  found  it  to  be 
wrong.  Live  for  a  purpose ;  work  for  a  purpose ;  be 
decided  in  what  you  do ;  have  opinions  and  ideas  of 
your  own,  but  do  not  be  either  stubborn  or  conceited 
about  them.  Byron  says,  "  Be  something,  anything, 
but  mean."  The  world  always  respects  a  resolute  man. 


To  him,  alas!  to  him,  I  fear, 
The  face  of  death  will  terrible  appear, 
Who  in  his  life,  flatt'ring  his  senseless  pride, 
By  being  known  to  all  the  world  beside, 
Does  not  himself,  when  he  is  dying,  know 
Nor  what  he  is,  nor  whither  he's  to  go. 

COWLEY. 


Be  stirring  as  the  time  :  be  fire  with  fire ; 
...  So  shall  inferior  eyes, 
That  borrow  their  behaviour  from  the  great, 
Grow  great  by  your  example ;  and  put  on 
The  dauntless  spirit  of  resolution. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

[323] 


NOVEMBER   THIRTEENTH. 

IN  a  Devonshire  lane  as  I  trotted  along 
T'other  day,  much  in  want  of  a  subject  for  song, 
Thinks  I  to  myself,  I  have  hit  on  a  strain, 

Sure,  Marriage  is  much  like  a  Devonshire  lane. 

In  the  first  place,  'tis  long,  and  when  once  you  are  in  it> 
It  holds  you  as  fast  as  a  cage  holds  a  linnet, 

For  howe'er  rough  and  dirty  the  road  may  be  found, 
Drive  forward  you  must,  since  there's  no  turning 
round. 

Then  the  banks  are  so  high,  both  to  left  hand  and  right, 
That  they  shut  up  the  beauties  around  from  the 
sight, 

And  hence  you'll  allow  'tis  an  inference  plain, 
That  Marriage  is  just  like  a  Devonshire  lane. 

But  thinks  I  too,  these  banks  within  which  we  are  pent, 
With  bud,  blossom,  and  berry  are  richly  besprent, 

And  the  conjugal  fence  which  forbids  us  to  roam, 

Looks  lovely,  when  deck'd  with  the  comforts  of 
home. 

In  the  rock's  gloomy  crevice  the  bright  holly  grows, 
The  ivy  waves  fresh  o'er  the  withering  rose, 

And  the  evergreen  love  of  a  virtuous  wife 

Smooths  the  roughness  of  care,  cheers  the  winter  of 
life. 

Then  long  be  the  journey  and  narrow  the  way, 
I'll  rejoice  that  I've  seldom  a  turnpike  to  pay, 

And  whate'er  others  think,  be  the  last  to  complain, 
Though  Marriage  is  just  like  a  Devonshire  lane. 

ANONYMOUS. 

[324] 


NOVEMBER   FOURTEENTH. 

TEMPTATIONS  come  to  us  in  so  many  forms. 
Not  a  day  passes  that  we  have  not  need  to  arm 
ourselves  with  fresh  courage  to  meet  the  battle  of  life. 
Overcoming  is  not  easy  with  any  of  us :  it  requires 
constant  vigilance  and  self-denial,  moral  courage  and 
strength  of  will,  but  each  victory  over  temptation  is 
setting  a  stone  in  our  spiritual  temples  which  neither 
time  nor  decay  can  destroy.  Let  us  root  out  the  evil 
habits,  overcome  the  desire  to  do  wrong,  and  stand 
up  courageously  against  temptation,  not  in  our  own 
strength,  but  in  the  strength  of  our  Lord.  He  it  is 
that  giveth  us  the  victory,  in  His  name. 

Was  the  trial  sore? 

Temptation  sharp?  Thank  God  a  second  time! 
Why  comes  temptation  but  for  man  to  meet 
And  master,  and  make  crouch  beneath  his  foot 
And  so  be  pedestalled  in  triumph  ?   Pray 
"  Lead  us  into  no  such  temptations,  Lord  !  " 
Yea,  but,  O  Thou  whose  servants  are  the  bold, 
Lead  such  temptations  by  the  head  and  hair, 
Reluctant  dragons,  up  to  who  dares  fight, 
That  so  he  may  do  battle  and  have  praise. 

BROWNING. 

When  life  is  more  terrible  than  death,  it  is  then  the 
truest  valour  to  dare  to  live.  —  SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE. 

Our  business  is  like  men  to  fight, 
And  hero-like  to  die  ! 

WILLIAM   MOTHERWELL. 

A  man  of  courage  is  also  full  of  faith. 

YONGE'S  CICERO. 
[3*6] 


NOVEMBER   FIFTEENTH. 

MAN  carries  under  his  hat  a  private  theatre,  wherein 
a  greater  drama  is  acted  than  is  ever  performed 
on  the  mimic  stage,  beginning  and  ending  in  Eternity. 

—  CARLYLE. 


There  is  a  chamber  of  silence  in  every  human  heart. 
Here  our  secret  thoughts  lie  hidden  away,  known  only 
to  ourselves  and  the  great  Author  of  our  being.  Into 
this  chamber  we  retire  when  in  great  joy  or  sorrow ; 
we  seek  its  seclusion  when  baffled  or  defeated,  when 
disappointed,  when  discouraged,  or  when  successful 
and  happy.  What  we  think  while  there  influences  our 
whole  life.  We  can  scarcely  understand  our  own 
motives  often ;  there  is  a  mysterious  something  within 
us  which  seems  to  govern  our  actions,  and  we  obey,  as 
it  were,  an  unseen  voice.  I  think  we  are  in  close 
kinship  with  the  associations  of  that  secret  heart- 
chamber.  If  our  thoughts  are  pure  and  ennobling,  we 
carry  about  with  us  the  reflection  of  them  in  good 
deeds ;  but  if  they  are  not,  our  influence  cannot  be 
wholesome.  Oh,  this  silent,  inner  life!  it  only  lies  re- 
vealed to  the  Eye  of  God  ;  the  world  sees  but  a  glimpse 
of  it,  but  let  us  keep  our  hearts  so  clean  and  true  that 
we  need  never  fear  to  have  our  secret  thoughts  known. 

Thou  canst  not  sufficiently  prize  Humanity's  value ; 
Let  it  be  coin'd  in  deed  as  it  exists  in  thy  breast, 
E'en  the  man  whom  thou  chancest  to   meet  in  life's 

narrow  pathway, 

If  he  should  ask  it  of  thee,  hold  forth  a  succouring 
hand. 

SCHILLER. 


NOVEMBER   SIXTEENTH. 

TIME  is  like  a  great  bird  flying  ever  onward  to 
his  nest  among  the  mountains  of  Eternity.  The 
little  minutes  make  the  soft  white  down  on  his  breast  — 
the  countless  busy  minutes  that  rest  not  until  they  are 
closely  folded  under  the  wings  of  Time,  to  be  borne 
away  into  the  trackless  past.  The  days,  and  weeks, 
and  years  gather  about  him ;  they  form  his  plumage, 
and  each  and  every  one  is  eager  for  flight.  What  are 
you  giving  into  Time's  keeping  to  bear  away  forever? 
What  you  give  will  never  return.  Let  it  be  something 
sweet  and  beautiful  that  shall  be  put  away  for  safe 
keeping,  under  the  wings  of  the  Eternal  Years. 


The  Bird  of  Time  has  but  a  little  way 
To  flutter  —  and  the  Bird  is  on  the  Wing. 

OMAR   KHAYYAM. 


How  slowly  and  how  silently  doth  time 
Float  on  his  starry  journey  !     Still  he  goes, 
And  goes,  and  goes,  and  doth  not  pass  away. 
He  rises  with  the  golden  morning,  calmly, 
And  with  the  moon  at  night.     Methinks  I  see 
Him  stretching  wide  abroad  his  mighty  wings, 
Floating  forever  o'er  the  crowds  of  men, 
Like  a  huge  vulture  with  its  prey  beneath. 
Lo !  I  am  here,  and  time  seems  passing  on  : 
To-morrow  I  shall  be  a  breathless  thing  — 
Yet  he  will  still  be  here  ;  and  the  blue  hours 
Will  laugh  as  gaily  on  the  busy  world 
As  though  I  were  alive  to  welcome  them. 

BRYAN  WALLER   PROCTER. 
[327] 


NOVEMBER   SEVENTEENTH. 

WHO  is  the  great  man?  He  who  has  accumulated 
vast  estates,  established  flourishing  institutions, 
diminished  the  public  debt,  won  some  famous  battle, 
written  a  popular  book,  or  painted  a  picture  that  all 
London  has  praised?  Ah,  perhaps  you,  in  your  plain 
every-day  life  are  greater  in  the  sight  of  God  than  the 
men  who  have  accomplished  these  things.  You  think 
you  lead  a  very  humdrum  sort  of  a  life ;  you  long  to 
do  great  and  noble  things.  You  have  high  ambitions, 
but  God  had  other  plans  for  you.  He  chose  a  humble 
place  for  you,  gave  you  your  work  to  do,  and  now  is 
watching  the  result.  He  doesn't  forget  the  little  way- 
side blessings  you  are  scattering  about  you ;  He 
notices  all  the  daily  kindnesses  you  are  doing  for 
others,  and  when  you  whisper  to  Him  that  you  have 
lived  in  vain,  do  you  think  your  Heavenly  Father  be- 
lieves as  you  do  ?  You  have  no  right  to  call  a  life  spent 
for  Him,  and  for  the  service  of  others,  "useless." 
They  who  are  greatest  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  are 
often  least  in  the  Kingdom  of  God. 


If  I  am  asked,  "  Who  is  the  greatest  man  ?  "  I  an- 
swer "  The  best " ;  and  if  I  am  required  to  say  who  is 
the  best,  I  reply,  "  He  that  has  deserved  the  most  of 
his  fellow-creatures."  Whether  we  deserve  better  of 
mankind,  by  the  cultivation  of  letters,  by  obscure  and 
inglorious  attainments,  by  intellectual  pursuits  calcu- 
lated rather  to  amuse  than  inform,  than  by  strenuous 
exertions  in  speaking  and  acting,  let  those  consider 
who  bury  themselves  in  studies  unproductive  of  any 
benefit  to  their  country,  or  fellow-citizens.  I  think 

not.  —  SIR  WILLIAM  JONES. 

[328] 


NOVEMBER   EIGHTEENTH. 

NO  wonder  you  are  troubled  and  perplexed,  and 
that  things  go  wrong.  You  are  trying  to  walk 
alone,  and  your  strength  is  small.  You  forget  that 
you  are  human,  and  that  humanity  is  solely  depend- 
ent on  God.  How  would  you  be  clothed  and  fed  and 
sheltered  without  Him?  Why,  you  are  simply  noth- 
ing without  God ;  and  yet  you  are  trying  to  rely 
upon  your  poor  feeble  strength.  You  take  your  bur- 
den to  Him,  perhaps,  and  ask  Him  to  carry  it  for 
you,  but  when  you  finish  your  prayer  to  Him,  you  re- 
sume the  burden,  and  go  on  sighing  and  wondering 
why  God  did  not  relieve  you  of  it.  Learn  to  rely  upon 
Him ;  remember  He  is  your  Father,  and  you  are  His 
child ;  trust  Him  completely,  and  give  into  His  keep- 
ing all  that  you  have. 

With  doubts,  and  cares,  and  fears  opprest, 
Man's  wayward  thoughts  desponding  rove ; 

Where  shall  the  troubled  soul  find  rest? 
Oh!  fly  to  God,  for  God  is  love. 

Trust,  trust  in  Him  —  for  you  He  died ; 

By  works  of  love  thy  faith  approve ; 
So  shall  thy  soul  in  peace  abide, 

And  know,  and  feel  that  God  is  love. 

LORD   TEIGNMOUTH. 

Faith  sees  the  worlds  that  are  not  open  to  any  other 
eye.  It  has  been  well  said :  "  The  Holy  Spirit  can 
put  an  eye  of  faith  into  the  soul,  and  thus  make  the 
things  of  God  manifest  to  it,  as  He  did  to  the  Old 
Testament  saints,  who  saw  things  afar  off."  —  ENGLISH 

CHURCHMAN. 

Be  not  faithless,  but  believing.  —  JOHN  20  :  27. 
[329] 


NOVEMBER   NINETEENTH. 

TO  be  especially  loved  and  cared  for,  is  very  sweet 
to  us.     To  be  enshrined  in  loyal  hearts,  and  set 
apart  as  if  we  were  jewels,  how  precious  this  is  !   If  we 
are  shining  each  day  for  our  Master,  reflecting   His 
glory,  we  are  truly  His  jewels. 

Set  apart  for  Jesus  ! 

Is  not  this  enough, 
Though  this  desert  prospect 

Open  wild  and  rough  ? 
Set  apart  for  His  delight, 

Chosen  for  His  holy  pleasure, 

Sealed  to  be  His  special  treasure ; 

Could  we  choose  a  nobler  joy? 
And  would  we  if  we  might  ? 

Set  apart  to  love  Him, 

And  His  love  to  know ; 
Not  to  waste  affection 

On  a  passing  show. 
Called  to  give  Him  life  and  heart, 

Called  to  pour  the  hidden  treasure, 

That  none  other  claims  to  measure 

Into  His  beloved  hand! 
Thrice  blessed  "  set  apart." 

FRANCES   RIDLEY   HAVERGAL. 

Thou  art  my  King  — 

My  King  henceforth  alone  ; 

And  I,  Thy  servant,  Lord,  am  all  Thine  own. 

Give  me  Thy  strength  ;  Oh  !  let  Thy  dwelling  be 

In  this  poor  heart  that  pants,  my  Lord,  for  Thee ! 

G.  TERSTEEGEN. 
[330] 


NOVEMBER   TWENTIETH. 

NOW  LEDGE  may  slumber  in  the  memory,  but  it 
never  dies.  It  is  like  the  dormouse  in  the  ivied 
tower,  that  sleeps  whilst  winter  lasts,  but  wakes  with 
the  warm  breath  of  spring ;  it  is  like  the  life-germ  in 
the  seed ;  it  is  like  the  sweet  music  of  the  harp-strings 
that  waits  but  the  master's  touch  to  wake  it  into  utter- 
ance. —  ANONYMOUS. 


The  Almighty  wisdom,  having  given 

Each  man  within  himself  an  apter  light 

To  guide  his  acts,  than  any  light  within  him, 

Creating  nothing,  not  in  all  things  equal : 

It  seems  a  fault  in  any  that  depend 

On  other's  knowledge,  and  exile  their  own. 

CHAPMAN   AND   SHIRLEY. 


God  intended  man  to  acquire  knowledge  of  his  own, 
this  is  why  He  gave  him  a  mind  to  reason,  and  to 
improve  his  opportunities.  Do  not  depend  on  the 
thoughts  and  opinions  of  others ;  lay  up  a  fund  of  knowl- 
edge, and  it  will  be  ready  to  draw  from  at  any  time. 
Add  to  your  store  every  day ;  improve  the  little  min- 
utes ;  make  use  of  everything  you  can  as  you  pass 
along.  Keep  learning ;  it  will  help  fit  you  for  the  life 
to  come. 


Learning  is  addition  beyond 
Nobility  or  birth  :  honour  of  blood, 
Without  the  ornament  of  knowledge,  is 
A  glorious  ignorance. 

JAMES   SHIRLEY. 
[331] 


NOVEMBER  TWENTY-FIRST. 

WE   can't  choose  happiness   either  for  ourselves 
or  for  another;    we  can't  tell  where  that  will 
lie.     We  can  only  choose  whether  we  will  indulge  our- 
selves in  the  present  moment,  or  whether  we  will  re- 
nounce that,  for  the  sake  of  the  Divine  voice  within  us 

—  GEORGE  ELIOT. 

Thou,  Lord,  my  path  shalt  choose, 

And  my  Guide  be! 
What  shall  I  fear  to  lose 

While  I  have  Thee? 
This  be  my  portion  blest, 
On  my  Redeemer's  breast, 
In  peaceful  trust  to  rest : 

He  cares  for  me! 

Shall  I,  then,  choose  my  way? 

Never,  oh,  no! 
I,  a  creature  of  a  day, 

What  can  I  know? 
What  dread  perplexity, 
Then  would  encompass  me : 
Now  I  can  look  to  Thee, 

Thou  orderest  so : 

This  lightens  every  cross, 

Cheers  every  ill : 
Suffer  I  grief  or  loss, 

It  is  Thy  will! 
Who  can  make  no  mistake, 
Chooseth  the  way  I  take ; 
He  who  can  ne'er  forsake, 

Holds  my  hand  still! 

FROM   THE   GERMAN. 

[332] 


NOVEMBER  TWENTY-SECOND. 

WHO  has  ever  been  able  to  mark  out  a  future  and 
have  his  life  exactly  as  he  had  planned  it  ?  So 
much  depends  upon  circumstances ;  for,  as  we  cannot 
look  into  the  future  and  see  what  is  before  us,  what 
folly  it  is  for  us  to  boast  of  what  we  will  do  in  the 
coming  years!  Why  not  leave  the  future  with  God? 
Perhaps  these  very  disappointments  are  stepping- 
stones  to  a  better  and  higher  life.  We  do  not  con- 
sider that  God  has  wisely  withheld  from  us  the  very 
thing  which  might  have  made  us  miserable  here  and 
hereafter.  To  be  contented  with  to-day's  portion,  to 
be  cheerful  and  bright  no  matter  what  comes, — this  is 
the  dearest  wish  I  have  for  you  this  November  day. 

Our  content 
Is  our  best  having. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

With  equal  minds  what  happens  let  us  bear, 

Nor  joy,  nor  grieve  too  much  for  things  beyond  our  care. 

DRYDEN. 

Cellars  and  granaries  in  vain  we  fill 
With  all  the  bounteous  summer's  store, 
If  the  mind  thirst  and  hunger  still, 
The  poor  rich  man's  emphatically  poor ; 
Slaves  to  the  things  we  too  much  prize, 
We  masters  grow  of  all  that  we  despise. 

COWLEY. 

Not  he  who  has  little,  but  he  who  wishes  for  more,  is 

poor.  —  SENECA. 

[333] 


NOVEMBER  TWENTY-THIRD. 

THOUGH  we  may  be  always  wishing  to  have  what 
the  world  calls  "  a  good  easy  time,"  we  would  soon 
tire  of  such  an  existence,  could  we  reach  the  fulfilment 
of  our  desires.  A  few  weeks'  vacation  at  a  summer 
resort  refreshes  and  invigorates  us,  but  as  soon  as  we 
begin  to  feel  rested  we  grow  impatient  to  resume  our 
work,  and  to  get  back  into  the  daily  routine  of  our 
former  activity.  If  you  have  ever  been  restricted  from 
work  by  long  illness,  and  your  physician  tells  you  that 
absolute  rest  is  necessary  for  your  restoration  to  health, 
then  you  will  fully  comprehend  the  misery  of  being 
idle.  One  has  only  to  have  a  little  experience  of  this 
kind  to  fully  appreciate  the  real  luxury  of  work. 
Wheels  that  are  allowed  to  stand  still  soon  rust,  and 
by  and  by  the  machinery  will  not  run  at  all,  because  the 
oil  and  friction  are  wanting.  The  machinery  of  our 
being  needs  oiling  with  cheerfulness ;  and  then  if  we 
keep  all  of  the  wheels  in  motion,  we  shall  be  happier 
than  if  we  spent  our  days  in  luxurious  idleness. 

He  that  embarks  on  the  voyage  of  life  will  always 
wish  to  advance  rather  by  the  simple  impulse  of  the 
wind  than  the  strokes  of  the  oar ;  and  many  founder 
in  their  passage  while  they  lie  waiting  for  the  gale.  — 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON. 

Life's  cares  are  comforts  ;  such  by  Heav'n  design'd ; 
He  that  has  none,  must  make  them,  or  be  wretched. 
Cares  are  employments  ;  and  without  employ 
The  soul  is  on  the  rack ;  the  rack  of  rest, 
To  souls  most  adverse ;  action  all  their  joy. 

YOUNG. 

t334] 


NOVEMBER  TWENTY-FOURTH. 

T  EARN  to  be  temperate  in  all  things.  The  man 
J — '  who  indulges  his  appetite  too  freely  starves  his 
mind  and  neglects  his  soul.  Avoid  the  use  of  intoxi- 
cating liquors  or  drugs,  —  the  world  has  suffered  enough 
through  them  already ;  do  not  run  to  extremes  in  any- 
thing ;  let  your  life  be  temperate,  pure,  and  blameless, 
and  worthy  of  imitation.  After  all,  it  is  not  so  much 
what  we  profess,  as  how  we  live;  this  is  what  the 
world  wants  —  proofs  !  If  you  wish  to  do  anything 
for  the  good  of  humanity,  begin  with  yourself;  the 
truer  the  pattern,  the  more  it  will  be  copied.  If  you 
then  would  have  a  temperate  world,  do  your  share 
towards  making  it  so  by  being  temperate  yourself. 

Temperance  is  reason's  girdle  and  passion's  bridle, 
the  strength  of  the  soul  and  the  foundation  of  virtue. 

—  JEREMY  TAYLOR. 

Philosophy,  religious  solitude 
And  labour  wait  on  temperance  ;  in  these 
Desire  is  bounded  :  they  instruct  the  mind's 
And  body's  action. 

T.  NABB. 

There  is  no  difference  between  knowledge  and  tem- 
perance ;  for  he  who  knows  what  is  good  and  embraces 
it,  who  knows  what  is  bad  and  avoids  it,  is  learned  and 
temperate ;  but  they  who  know  very  well  what  ought 
to  be  done,  and  yet  do  quite  otherwise,  are  ignorant 
and  stupid.  —  SOCRATES. 

Temperate  in  every  place,  —  abroad,  at  home, 
Thence  will  applause,  and  hence  will  profit  come. 

CRABBE. 
[335] 


B 


NOVEMBER   TWENTY-FIFTH. 

UT  we  speak  the  wisdom   of  God   in   a  mystery, 
even  the  hidden  wisdom.  — I  CORINTHIANS  2  :  7. 


We  fret  ourselves  all  our  life  long  trying  to  fathom 
the  mysteries  of  God,  and  all  to  no  avail.  Why  not 
content  ourselves  to  wait  until  all  the  mists  that  belong 
to  our  mortal  life  shall  melt  away?  Why  not  be  satis- 
fied to  worship  and  adore  Him ;  to  read  His  wisdom 
written  on  all  His  works ;  and  to  leave  the  revelation 
to  Him  who  orders  all  things  for  our  good  ? 

God  keeps  His  holy  mysteries 

Just  on  the  outside  of  man's  dream! 
In  diapason  slow,  we  think 
To  hear  their  pinions  rise  and  sink, 
While  they  float  beneath  His  eyes, 
Like  the  swans  adown  the  stream. 

Abstractions,  are  they,  from  the  forms 
Of  His  great  beauty?  exaltations 

From  His  great  glory  ?  —  strong  previsions 

Of  what  we  shall  be  ?  intuitions 

Of  what  we  are  —  in  calms  and  storms, 
Beyond  our  peace  and  passions? 

Things  nameless  !  which,  in  passing  so, 
Do  stroke  us  with  a  subtle  grace : 

We  say,  "  Who  passes?  "  —  they  are  dumb  : 

We  cannot  see  them  go  or  come : 

Their  touches  fall  soft  —  cold  —  as  snow 
Upon  a  blind  man's  face. 

ELIZABETH    BARRETT   BROWNING. 

[336] 


T 


NOVEMBER   TWENTY-SIXTH. 

IIS  not  a  lip,  or  eye,  we  beauty  call, 
But  the  joint  force  and  full  result  of  all. 

ALEXANDER   POPE. 


The  criterion  of  true  beauty  is  that  it  increases  on 
examination ;  if  false,  that  it  lessens.  There  is  some- 
thing, therefore,  in  true  beauty  that  corresponds  with 
right  reason,  and  is  not  merely  the  creation  of  fancy. 

—  LORD   GREVILLE. 

Some  souls  lose  all  things  but  the  love  of  beauty ; 

And  by  that  love  they  are  redeemable : 

For  in  love  and  beauty  they  acknowledge  good, 

And  good  is  God. 

BAILEY. 

The  most  natural  beauty  in  the  world  is  honesty  and 
moral  truth  ;  for  all  beauty  is  truth  ;  true  features  make 
the  beauty  of  the  face,  and  true  proportions  the  beauty 
of  architecture,  as  true  measures  that  of  harmony  and 

music.  —  EARL   OF   SHAFTESBURY. 

Beauty  like  wit,  to  judge  should  be  shown ; 
Both  are  most  valued  when  they  are  best  known. 

LORD  LYTTLETON. 

Beauty  of  soul  will  never  fade.  Age  will  not  wrinkle 
it,  nor  time  mar  it,  nor  illness  rob  it  of  its  attractions. 
While  it  is  a  pleasure  to  look  on  a  pure  sweet  face, 
beautiful  and  harmonious  in  tint  and  feature,  yet  we 
cease  to  care  for  it,  if  it  is  unaccompanied  by  charm  of 
intellect  and  depth  of  soul.  Alas,  for  the  beauty  that 
is  "  only  skin  deep!" 

[337] 


NOVEMBER   TWENTY-SEVENTH 

LET  your   heart   bring   a    thank-offering  to  God 
to-day! 

Lord  of  the  harvest!  Thee  we  hail! 
Thine  ancient  promise  doth  not  fail ; 
The  varying  seasons  haste  their  round, 
With  goodness  all  our  years  are  crowned ; 

Our  thanks  we  pay, 

This  holy  day ; 
Oh,  let  our  hearts  in  tune  be  found. 

If  spring  doth  wake  the  song  of  mirth, 
If  summer  warms  the  fruitful  earth, 
When  winter  sweeps  the  naked  plain, 
Or  autumn  yields  its  ripened  grain, 

We  still  do  sing 

To  Thee  our  King ; 
Through  all  their  changes  Thou  dost  reign. 

But  chiefly  when  Thy  liberal  hand 
Bestows  new  plenty  o'er  the  land, 
When  sounds  of  music  fill  the  air, 
As  homeward  all  their  treasures  bear, 

We  too  will  raise 

Our  hymn  of  praise, 
For  we  Thy  common  bounties  share. 

Lord  of  the  harvest!  all  is  Thine, 
The  rains  that  fall,  the  suns  that  shine, 
The  seeds  once  hidden  in  the  ground, 
The  skill  that  makes  our  fruits  abound : 

New  every  year,  Thy  gifts  appear ; 
New  praises  from  our  lips  shall  sound. 

JOHN   HAMPDEN   GURNEY. 
[338] 


NOVEMBER   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

NOTHING  can  produce  so  great  a  serenity  of  life 
as  a  mind  free  from  guilt,  and  kept  untainted, 
not  only  from  actions,  but  purposes  that  are  wicked. 
By  this  means  the  soul  will  be  not  only  unpolluted, 
but  not  disturbed ;  the  fountain  will  run  clear  and 
unsullied  and  the  streams  that  flow  from  it  will  be  just 
and  honest  deeds,  ecstasies  of  satisfaction,  a  brisk  energy 
of  spirit  which  makes  man  an  enthusiast  in  his  joy, 
and  a  tenacious  memory,  sweeter  than  hope. — PLU- 
TARCH. 

Though  Wisdom  wake,  Suspicion  sleeps 

At  Wisdom's  gate,  and  to  Simplicity 

Resigns  her  charge,  while  Goodness  thinks  no  ill 

Where  no  ill  seems. 

MILTON. 

Look  for  the  good  in  people,  then  shalt  thou  grow 
better  thyself.  If  thou  wilt  incline  thy  tastes  in  a  cer- 
tain direction,  thy  whole  nature  will  soon  tend  that 
way.  In  continually  seeking  for  beautiful  things,  thou 
wilt  in  time  utterly  ignore  those  that  are  not  beautiful. 
If  thou  dost  pursue  goodness,  thou  wilt  become  good 
thyself,  and  wilt  not  search  for  evil  in  those  around 
thee.  Strive  to  imitate  God,  who  is  the  sum  of  true 
Goodness. 

Goodness  is  beauty  in  its  best  estate. 

MARLOWE. 

The  soul 

Is  strong  that  trusts  in  goodness  and  shows  clearly 
It  may  be  trusted. 

MASSINGER. 

[339] 


NOVEMBER  TWENTY-NINTH. 

SHALL  we  allow  the  camel  and  the  wolf  to  have 
more  fortitude,  more  calm  endurance,  than  we? 
God  makes  each  object,  each  creature,  for  some  good ; 
we  may  learn  lessons  in  patience  from  the  slow,  plod- 
ding ox  ;  lessons  in  industry  from  the  bee  and  the  ant ; 
lessons  in  meekness  from  the  lamb ;  and  lessons  in 
perseverance  from  the  tortoise  and  the  snail,  as  well  as 
lessons  in  fortitude  from  the  camel  and  the  wolf.  Do 
not  scorn  to  be  taught  by  such  as  these ;  they  are 
works  of  the  Divine  Hand,  thoughts  of  the  Divine 
Heart.  If  your  burden  be,  each  day,  heavy  and  cum- 
bersome as  that  which  the  camel  carries,  bear  it  silently 
and  uncomplainingly,  until  He  who  loves  you  shall  lift 
it  off.  Calm  endurance  will  help  to  fit  you  for  Heaven. 

Existence  may  be  borne,  and  the  deep  root 
Of  life  and  sufferance  make  its  firm  abode 
In  base  and  desolate  bosoms  :  mute 
The  camel  labours  with  the  heaviest  load, 
And  the  wolf  dies  in  silence  :  not  bestow'd 
In  vain  should  such  examples  be ;  if  they, 
Things  of  ignoble  or  of  savage  mood, 
Endure  and  shrink  not,  we  of  noble  clay 
May  temper  it  to  bear —  it  is  but  for  a  day. 

BYRON. 

So,  firm  in  steadfast  hope,  in  thought  secure, 

In  full  accord  to  all  thy  world  of  joy, 
May  I  be  nerved  to  labour  high  and  pure, 

And  Thou  Thy  child  to  do  Thy  work  employ. 

J.  STERLING. 

May  God  give  thee  fortitude  and  strength  for  to-day ! 
[340] 


NOVEMBER   THIRTIETH. 

T7AREWELL,  old  Autumn,  thou  wilt  not  return  to 
A     us  until  another  year!    May  thy  sun  set  in  peace : 

The  mellow  year  is  hastening  to  its  close : 
The  little  birds  have  almost  sung  their  last, 

Their  small  notes  twitter  in  the  dreary  blast  — 
That  shrill-piped  harbinger  of  early  snows  ; 

The  dusky  waters  shudder  as  they  shine, 
The  russet  leaves  obstruct  the  straggling  way 
Of  oozy  brooks,  which  no  deep  banks  define, 
And  the  gaunt  woods,  in  ragged,  scant  array, 
Wrap  their  old  limbs  with  sober  ivy  twine. 

HARTLEY   COLERIDGE. 

Now  Autumn's  fire  burns  slowly  along  the  woods, 
And  day  by  day  the  dead  leaves  fall  and  melt, 
And  night  by  night  the  monitory  blast 
Wails  in  the  key-hole,  telling  how  it  pass'd 
O'er  empty  fields,  or  upland  solitudes, 
Or  grim  wide  wave  ;  and  now  the  power  is  felt 
Of  melancholy,  tenderer  in  its  moods 
Than  any  joy  indulgent  Summer  dealt. 

WILLIAM   ALLINGHAM. 

Dear  Heart,  thou  art  not  forsaken.  Solitude  and 
Peace  are  round  about  thee,  and  God  is  over  all.  Like 
a  pure  white  dove  with  folded  wing,  His  sweet  mes- 
senger—  Peace  —  is  waiting  near  thee.  Thou  hearest 
a  Voice  speaking  tenderly  to  thy  soul.  It  is  the  whisper 
of  the  Eternal,  bidding  thee  cast  all  thy  cares  upon 
Him.  Through  the  long  winter  days  may  His  peace 
abide  with  thee  and  thine ! 

[34i] 


OR   THE   MONTH 
OF    DECEMBER 


DECEMBER   FIRST. 

NEXT  came  the  chill  December : 
Yet  he,  through  merry  feasting  which  he  made 
And  great  bonfires,  did  not  the  cold  remember ; 
His  Saviour's  birth  his  mind  so  much  did  glad. 

EDMUND   SPENSER. 

Thy  heart  be  like  December!  Forget  the  cold,  forget 
the  wind.  Remember  only  that  the  time  is  now  the 
crown  of  all  the  year. 

Dimmest  and  brightest  month  am  I ; 
My  short  days  end,  my  lengthening  days  begin  ; 
What  matters  more  or  less  sun  in  the  sky, 

When  all  is  sun  within? 

Ivy  and  privet  dark  as  night, 
I  weave  with  hips  and  haws  a  cheerful  show, 
And  holly  for  a  beauty  and  delight, 

And  milky  mistletoe. 

While  high  above  them  all  I  set 
Yew  twigs  and  Christmas  roses  pure  and  pale ; 
Then  Spring  her  snowdrop  and  her  violet 

May  keep,  so  sweet  and  frail ; 

May  keep  each  merry  singing  bird, 
Of  all  her  happy  birds  that  singing  build : 
For  I've  a  carol  which  some  shepherds  heard 

Once  in  a  wintry  field. 

CHRISTINA  ROSSETTI. 
[342] 


INGELOW 
1830-1897 


DECEMBER  SECOND. 

•pvECEMBER,  — its  emblem,  the  Holly:  its  motto, 
•L'  Cheerfulness. 

The  holly  !  the  holly !  oh,  twine  it  with  bay  — 

Come  give  the  holly  a  song ; 
For  it  helps  to  drive  stern  Winter  away, 

With  his  garment  so  sombre  and  long ; 
It  peeps  through  the  trees  with  its  berries  red, 

And  its  leaves  of  burnished  green, 
When  the  flowers  and  fruits  have  long  been  dead, 

And  not  even  the  daisy  is  seen. 

ELIZA   COOK. 

Gone  are  the  Summer  hours, 
The  birds  have  left  their  bowers  ; 

While  the  holly  true  restrains  his  hue, 
Nor  changes  like  the  flowers. 
On  his  armed  leaf  reposes 
The  berries  tinged  like  roses  ; 

For  he's  ever  seen  in  red  and  green, 
While  grim  old  Winter  dozes. 

THOMAS   MILLER. 

And  should  my  youth  as  youth  is  apt,  I  know, 

Some  harshness  shew, 
All  vain  asperities  I  day  by  day 

Would  wear  away, 

Till  the  smooth  temper  of  my  age  should  be 
Like  the  high  leaves  upon  the  holly  tree. 

So  would  I  seem  amid  the  young  and  gay 

More  grave  than  they, 
That  in  my  age  as  cheerful  I  might  be 
As  the  green  winter  of  the  holly  tree. 

ROBERT    SOUTHEY. 
[343] 


DECEMBER  THIRD. 

/~~*HERISH  a  forgiving  spirit ;  do  not  allow  yourself 
V-x  to  bear  a  grudge  or  harbor  an  unkind  thought 
against  any  one.  Bury  all  unpleasant  feelings  beneath 
the  leaves  and  snows,  deeply  let  them  lie  hidden  away, 
no  more  to  wake  and  haunt  you.  Christ  had  more  to 
forgive  than  you,  but  He  bore  no  ill-will  towards  those 
who  persecuted  Him.  What  will  it  matter  in  a  few 
brief  years  if  some  one  injured  your  pride  or  hurt  your 
feelings  ?  Better  overlook  it  and  forgive  it ;  life  is  so 
short.  Would  you  want  to  stand  face  to  face  with  your 
Lord  and  be  obliged  to  say,  "  Master,  I  am  unworthy 
a  place  in  Thy  Kingdom,  because  I  could  not  for- 
give "  ? 

Of  him  that  hopes  to  be  forgiven,  it  is  indispensably 
required  that  he  forgive.  It  is  therefore  superfluous  to 
urge  any  other  motive.  On  this  great  duty  eternity  is 
suspended :  and  to  him  that  refuses  to  practise  it,  the 
throne  of  mercy  is  inaccessible,  and  the  Saviour  of  the 
world  is  born  in  vain.  —  SAMUEL  JOHNSON. 

But  O  !   revenge  is  sweet, 

Thus  think  the  crowd  ;  who,  eager  to  engage, 

Take  quickly  fire,  and  kindle  into  rage. 

Not  so  mild  Thales,  nor  Chrysippus  thought, 

Nor  that  good  man  who  drank  the  poisonous  draught 

With  mind  serene,  and  could  not  wish  to  see 

His  vile  accuser  drink  as  deep  as  he : 

Exalted  Socrates!  divinely  brave  ! 

Injured  he  fell,  and  dying  he  forgave ; 

Too  noble  for  revenge ;  which  still  we  find 

The  weakest  frailty  of  a  feeble  mind. 

DRYDEN. 
[344] 


DECEMBER   FOURTH. 

WE  can  learn  many  valuable  lessons  from  children. 
Their  perfect  faith  and  confidence  in  those  they 
love ;  their  trust  in  God ;  their  natural  simplicity  and 
innocence ;  their  purity  and  guilelessness  of  heart ;  their 
love  for  the  beautiful,  and  abhorrence  for  all  that  is  ugly 
and  unattractive,  —  these  things  are  the  chief  charms  of 
childhood.  How  careful  we  should  be  that  any  influ- 
ence of  ours  should  mar  the  loveliness  or  take  from  the 
trustfulness  of  any  child.  While  we  are  daily  learning 
sweet  lessons  of  them,  let  us  strive  to  make  ourselves 
worthy  examples  for  them  to  follow.  Childhood  imi- 
tates readily ;  character  in  the  young  is  easily  moulded, 
and  we  little  think,  perhaps,  that  a  careless  word  or 
deed  of  ours  will  germinate  in  some  tender  heart  soil, 
and  spring  up  in  a  few  brief  years,  —  a  harvest  of  wheat 
or  tares. 

Every  first  thing  continues  forever  with  the  child ; 
the  first  colour,  the  first  music,  the  first  flower,  paint  the 
foreground  of  his  life.  The  first  inner  or  outer  object 
of  love,  injustice,  or  such  like,  throws  a  shadow  im- 
measurably far  along  his  after  years.  —  RICHTER. 

Happy  the  child  who  is  suffered  to  be,  and  con- 
tented to  be,  what  God  meant  it  to  be,  —  a  child  while 
childhood  lasts.  Happy  the  parent  who  does  not 
force  artificial  manners,  precocious  feelings,  premature 
religion.  —  F.  w.  ROBERTSON. 

No  sense  have  they  of  ills  to  come, 
No  cares  beyond  to-day. 
Yet  see  how  all  around  them  wait 
The  ministers  of  human  fate! 

THOMAS  GRAY. 

[345] 


DECEMBER  FIFTH. 

WHERE  are  the  swallows  fled? 
Frozen  and  dead 
Perchance  upon  some  bleak  and  stormy  shore. 

O  doubting  heart ! 
Far  over  purple  seas,  They  wait  in  sunny  ease 

The  balmy  southern  breeze 
To  bring  them  to  their  northern  homes  once  more. 

Why  must  the  flowers  die? 
Prisoned  they  lie 
In  the  cold  tomb,  heedless  of  tears  or  rain. 

O  doubting  heart! 
They  only  sleep  below,  The  soft  white  ermine  snow 

While  winter  winds  shall  blow, 
To  breathe  and  smile  upon  you  soon  again. 

The  sun  has  hid  its  rays 

These  many  days ; 
Will  dreary  hours  never  leave  the  earth  ? 

O  doubting  heart! 
The  stormy  clouds  on  high 
Veil  the  same  sunny  sky 
That  soon,  for  spring  is  nigh, 
Shall  wake  the  summer  into  golden  mirth. 

Fair  hope  is  dead,  and  light 

Is  quenched  in  night ; 
What  sound  can  break  the  silence  of  despair  ? 

O  doubting  heart! 

The  sky  is  overcast, 

Yet  stars  shall  rise  at  last, 

Brighter  for  darkness  past, 

And  angels'  silver  voices  stir  the  air. 

ADELAIDE  ANNE  PROCTER. 

[346] 


M 


DECEMBER   SIXTH. 
AY  God  preserve  you  from  evil-speaking! 


But  ye,  keep  ye  on  earth 

Your  lips  from  over-speech  ; 
Loud  words  and  longing  are  so  little  worth, 

And  the  end  is  hard  to  reach  ; 
For  silence  after  grievous  things  is  good, 

And  reverence,  and  the  fear  that  makes  men  whole, 
And  shame,  and  righteous  governance  of  blood, 

And  lordship  of  the  soul. 

ALGERNON  CHARLES  SWINBURNE. 

Oh,  to  be  able  to  keep  back  the  quick  words  that  we 
so  often  speak ;  to  suffer  reproach  and  indignity  and 
keep  silent!  But  we  only  attain  to  this  by  constant 
vigilance,  patience,  and  prayer. 

What!  never  speak  one  evil  word, 

Or  rash,  or  idle,  or  unkind ! 
Oh !  how  shall  I,  most  gracious  Lord, 

This  mark  of  true  perfection  find  ? 

c.  WESLEY. 

We  say  an  unkind  thing,  and  another  is  hindered  in 
learning  the  holy  lesson  of  charity  that  thinketh  no 
evil.  We  say  a  provoking  thing,  and  our  sister  or 
brother  is  hindered  in  that  day's  effort  to  be  meek. 
How  sadly,  too,  we  may  hinder  without  word  or  act! 
For  wrong  feeling  is  more  infectious  than  wrong-doing  ; 
especially  the  various  phases  of  ill-temper,  —  gloomi- 
ness, touchiness,  discontent,  irritability,  —  do  we  not 
know  how  catching  these  are?  —  FRANCES  RIDLEY 

HAVERGAL. 

[347] 


DECEMBER  SEVENTH. 

E  word  of  God  instructs  how  we  may  obtain  wis- 
dom,  and  is  continually  urging  us  to  increase  in 
knowledge.  Solomon  says,  "  Get  wisdom,  get  under- 
standing ;  forget  it  not."  We  are  to  keep  this  thought 
continually  before  us. 

Would  Wisdom  for  herself  be  wooed, 
And  wake  the  foolish  from  his  dream, 

She  must  be  glad  as  well  as  good, 
And  must  not  only  be  but  seem. 

What's  that  which  Heaven  to  man  endears, 

And  that  which  eyes  no  sooner  see 
Than  the  heart  says,  with  floods  of  tears, 

"Ah!  that's  the  thing  which  I  would  be"? 
Not  childhood,  full  of  tears  and  fret ; 

Not  youth,  impatient  to  disown 
Those  visions  high,  which  to  forget 

Were  worse  than  never  to  have  known. 
Not  these ;  but  souls  found  here  and  there, 

Oases  in  our  waste  of  sin, 
When  everything  is  well  and  fair, 

And  God  remits  His  discipline, 
Whose  sweet  subdual  of  the  world 

The  worldling  scarce  can  recognize ; 
And  ridicule,  against  it  hurled, 

Drops  with  a  broken  sting  and  dies. 

COVENTRY   PATMORE. 

Walk 

Boldly  and  wisely  in  that  light  thou  hast ; 
There  is  a  Hand  above  will  help  thee  on. 

BAILEY. 
[348] 


DECEMBER   EIGHTH. 

I  HAVE  sought  for  rest  everywhere,  but  I  have  found 
it  nowhere,  except  in  a  little  corner  with  a  little 

book.  —  THOMAS  A   KEMPIS. 

Every  season  has  its  particular  power  of  striking 
the  mind.  .  .  .  To  the  man  of  study  and  imagina- 
tion the  Winter  is  generally  the  chief  time  of  labour. 
Gloom  and  silence  produces  composure  of  mind  and 
consideration  of  ideas ;  and  the  privation  of  external 
pleasure  naturally  causes  an  effort  to  find  entertainment 
within.  This  is  the  time,  in  which  those  whom  litera- 
ture enables  to  find  amusements  for  themselves,  have 
more  than  common  convictions  of  their  own  happiness. 
When  they  are  condemned  by  the  elements  to  retire- 
ment, and  debarred  from  most  of  the  diversions  which 
are  called  in  to  assist  the  flight  of  time,  they  can  find 
new  subjects  of  inquiry,  and  preserve  themselves  from 
the  weariness  which  hangs  always  flagging  upon  the 
vacant  mind.  —  SAMUEL  JOHNSON. 

A  good  book  is  the  precious  life-blood  of  a  master- 
spirit, embalmed  and  treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a  life 
beyond.  —  MILTON. 

The  past  lives  but  in  words ;  a  thousand  ages  were 
blank  if  books  had  not  woke  their  ghosts.  —  BULWER- 

LYTTON. 

Books  are  friends,  and  what  friends  they  are !  Their 
love  is  deep  and  unchanging;  their  patience  inex- 
haustible ;  their  gentleness  perennial ;  their  forbearance 
unbounded;  and  their  sympathy  without  selfishness. 

—  LANGFORD. 

[349] 


DECEMBER   NINTH. 

LET  not  sleep  fall  upon  thy  eyes  till  thou  hast  thrice 
reviewed  the  transactions  of  the  past  day.  Where 
have  I  turned  aside  from  rectitude?  What  have  I  been 
doing?  What  have  I  left  undone,  which  I  ought  to 
have  done?  Begin  this  from  the  first  act,  and  proceed  ; 
and  in  conclusion,  at  the  ill  which  thou  hast  done  be 
troubled,  and  rejoice  for  all  the  good.  —  PYTHAGORAS. 

Think  them  all  over  —  the  day's  events  —  and  sift 
out  the  good  thou  hast  done ;  God  grant  it  may  out- 
weigh the  evil.  What  is  so  helpful  to  us  as  to  review 
our  past  actions,  that  we  may  profit  by  our  failures  and 
mistakes,  and  make  a  better  record  in  the  future  ? 

Moments  there  are  in  life  —  alas,  how  few !  — 

When,  casting  cold,  prudential  doubts  aside 

We  take  a  generous  impulse  for  our  guide, 

And,  following  promptly  what  the  heart  thinks  best, 

Commit  to  Providence  the  rest ; 

Of  shame  or  sorrow,  for  the  heart  is  wise, 

Sure  that  no  after-reckoning  will  arise. 

And  happy  they  who  thus  in  faith  obey 

Their  better  nature ;  err  sometimes  they  may, 

And  some  sad  thoughts  lie  heavy  in  the  breast, 

Such  as  by  hope  deceived  are  left  behind ; 

But  like  a  shadow  these  will  pass  away 

From  the  pure  sunshine  of  the  peaceful  mind. 

SOUTHEY. 

By  all  means  use  sometimes  to  be  alone. 
Salute  thyself:  see  what  thy  soul  doth  wear, 
Dare  to  look  in  thy  chest ;  for  'tis  thine  own  : 
And  tumble  up  and  down  what  thou  find'st  there. 

GEORGE   HERBERT. 
[350] 


DECEMBER   TENTH. 

SOME  persons,  I  know,  estimate  happiness  by  fine 
houses,  gardens,  and  parks  —  others  by  pictures, 
money,  and  various  things  wholly  remote  from  their 
own  species ;  but  when  I  wish  to  ascertain  the  real 
felicity  of  any  rational  man,  I  always  inquire  'whom  he 
has  to  love.  If  I  find  he  has  nobody,  or  does  not  love 
those  he  has  —  even  in  the  midst  of  all  his  profusion  of 
finery  and  grandeur — I  pronounce  him  a  being  in  ad- 
versity. —  MRS.  INCHBALD. 

What  wonder  man  should  fail  to  stay 

A  nursling  wafted  from  above, 
The  growth  celestial  come  astray, 

That  tender  growth  whose  name  is  Love ! 

It  is  as  if  high  winds  in  Heaven 

Had  shaken  the  celestial  trees, 
And  to  this  earth  below  had  given 

Some  feathered  seeds  from  one  of  these. 

O  perfect  love  that  'dureth  long! 

Dear  growth,  that  shaded  by  the  palms, 
And  breathed  on  by  the  angel's  song, 

Blooms  on  in  Heaven's  eternal  calms ! 

How  great  the  task  to  guard  thee  here, 
When  wind  is  rough  and  frost  is  keen, 

And  all  the  ground  with  doubt  and  fear 
Is  checkered,  birth  and  death  between! 

Space  is  against  thee  —  it  can  part ; 

Time  is  against  thee  —  it  can  chill ; 
Words  —  they  but  render  half  the  heart ; 

Deeds  —  they  are  poor  to  our  rich  will. 

JEAN   INGELOW. 

[351] 


DECEMBER   ELEVENTH. 

r  I  CHOUGH  reason  is,  as  experience  assures  us,  apt 
-*-  to  be  biassed  in  such  a  variety  of  ways,  in  its  deter- 
mination of  what  is  morally  right,  yet  is  it  in  every  man, 
from  his  childhood,  fitted  to  apprise  him,  that  it  is  his 
duty  to  act  according  to  his  sense  of  right,  whatever  it 
may  be ;  and  this  sense  of  right  is  what  we  call  Con- 
science. —  ANONYMOUS. 

Knowledge  or  wealth  to  few  are  given, 
But  mark  how  just  the  ways  of  Heaven ; 
True  joy  to  all  is  free. 

Nor  wealth,  nor  knowledge  grant  the  boon, 
'Tis  thine,  O  conscience,  thine  alone, 
It  all  belongs  to  thee. 

MICKLE. 

When  tyrannizing  pain  shall  stop 

The  passage  of  thy  breath, 

And  thee  compel  to  swear  thyself 

True  servant  unto  death  : 

Then  shall  one  virtuous  deed  impart 

More  pleasure  to  thy  mind, 

Than  all  the  treasures  that  on  earth 

Ambitious  thoughts  can  find. 

The  well-spent  time  of  one  short  day, 

One  hour,  one  moment  then, 

Shall  be  more  sweet  than  all  the  joys 

Amongst  us  mortal  men. 

Then  shalt  thou  find  but  one  refuge 

Which  comfort  can  retain  : 

A  guiltless  conscience  pure  and  clear 

From  touch  of  sinful  stain. 

SAMUEL   BRANDON. 
[352] 


DECEMBER   TWELFTH. 

DO  well  the  little  things  now,  so  shall  great  things 
come  to  thee  by  and  by  asking  to  be  done. 

—  PERSIAN   PROVERB. 


You  are  serving  God  just  as  much  through  patience 
as  through  active  work,  if  this  is  what  He  requires  of 
you.  The  preparation  of  a  meal,  the  care  of  a  room, 
the  sewing  of  a  seam,  the  innumerable  little  details 
that  must  be  attended  to  in  the  daily  routine  of  life 
—  these  require  all  the  patience  we  can  command ; 
the  more  the  better.  If  you  are  murmuring  and  com- 
plaining, and  doing  your  duty  ungraciously,  there  is 
going  to  be  a  dark,  sorry-looking  pattern  traced  out 
by  your  unwilling  hands,  by  and  by.  But  if  you  are 
putting  in  plenty  of  the  golden  threads  of  patience 
and  cheerfulness,  your  fabric  will  be  like  woven  sun- 
shine, and  an  honor  to  Him  who  made  you. 


I  love  to  think  that  God  appoints 

My  portion  day  by  day  ; 
Events  of  life  are  in  His  hand  ; 

And  I  would  only  say : 
"Appoint  them  in  Thine  own  good  time, 

And  in  Thine  own  best  way ;  " 
All  things  shall  mingle  for  my  good, 
I  would  not  change  them  if  I  could, 

Nor  alter  Thy  decree. 
Thou  art  above  and  I  below! 
"  Thy  will  be  done !  and  even  so, 

For  so  it  pleaseth  Thee!  " 

ANNA  L.  WARING. 
[353] 


DECEMBER   THIRTEENTH. 

IF  a  man  be  gracious  and  courteous  to  strangers,  it 
shows  he  is  a  citizen  of  the  world,  and  that  his 
heart  is  no  island  cut  off  from  other  lands,  but  a  con- 
tinent that  joins  to  them ;  if  he  be  compassionate 
towards  the  afflictions  of  others,  it  shows  that  his  heart 
is  like  the  noble  tree  that  is  wounded  itself  when  it 
gives  the  balm ;  if  he  easily  pardons  and  remits 
offences,  it  shows  that  his  mind  is  planted  above 
injuries,  so  that  he  cannot  be  shot ;  if  he  be  thankful 
for  small  benefits,  it  shows  that  he  weighs  men's 
minds ;  .  .  .  but,  above  all,  if  he  have  St.  Paul's  per- 
fection, that  he  would  wish  to  be  an  anathema  from 
Christ  for  the  salvation  of  his  brethren,  it  shows  much 
of  a  divine  nature,  and  a  kind  of  conformity  with 
Christ  Himself.  —  FRANCIS  BACON. 


Then  wake  into  sound  divine 
The  very  pavement  of  Thy  shrine, 
Till  we,  like  Heaven's  star-sprinkled  floor, 
Faintly  give  back  what  we  adore ; 
Childlike  though  our  voices  be, 

And  untunable  the  parts, 
Thou  wilt  own  the  minstrelsy, 

If  it  flow  from  childlike  hearts. 

JOHN   KEBLE. 

Living  monuments  do  not  come  of  committees  — 
they  come  from  individuals. — JOHN  HENRY  NEWMAN. 

Use  the  temporal ;  desire  the  eternal.  —  THOMAS  A 
KEMPIS. 

t354] 


DECEMBER   FOURTEENTH. 

happiness  of  mankind  is  the  end  of  virtue,  and 
-*-  truth  is  the  knowledge  of  the  means ;  which  he 
will  never  seriously  attempt  to  discover  who  has  not 
habitually  interested  himself  in  the  welfare  of  others. 
The  searcher  after  truth  must  love  and  be  beloved ; 
for  general  benevolence  is  begotten  and  rendered  per- 
manent by  social  and  domestic  affections.  Let  us 
beware  of  that  proud  philosophy  which  affects  to  incul- 
cate philanthropy,  while  it  denounces  every  home-born 
feeling  by  which  it  is  produced  and  matured.  The 
parental  and  filial  duties  discipline  the  heart,  and  pre- 
pare it  for  the  love  of  all  mankind.  —  s.  T.  COLERIDGE. 


Abou  Ben  Adhem  (may  his  tribe  increase!) 

Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 

And  saw,  within  the  moonlight  in  his  room, 

Making  it  rich,  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom, 

An  angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold :  — 

Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adhem  bold, 

And  to  the  presence  in  the  room  he  said : 

"  What  writest  thou  ?  "  —  The  vision  rais'd  its  head, 

And  with  a  look  made  of  all  sweet  accord, 

Answer'd :  "  The  name  of  those  who  love  the  Lord." 

"  And  is  mine  one?"  said  Abou.     "  Nay,  not  so," 

Replied  the  angel.     Abou  spoke  more  low, 

But  cheerly  still ;  and  said  :  "  I  pray  thee  then, 

Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fellow-men." 

The  angel  wrote,  and  vanished.     The  next  night 
It  came  again  with  a  great  wakening  light, 
And  show'd  the  names  whom  love  of  God  had  bless'd, 
And  lo!    Ben  Adhem's  name  led  all  the  rest. 

LEIGH  HUNT. 

[355] 


DECEMBER   FIFTEENTH. 

MASTER!   how  shall  I  bless  Thy  name 
For  Thy  tender  love  to  me, 
For  the  sweet  enablings  of  Thy  grace, 

So  sovereign,  yet  so  free, 
That  have  taught  me  to  obey  Thy  word 
And  cast  my  care  on  Thee! 

They  tell  of  weary  burdens  borne 

For  discipline  of  life, 
Of  long  anxieties  and  doubts, 

Of  struggle  and  of  strife, 
Of  a  path  of  dim  perplexities 

With  fears  and  shadows  rife. 

Oh,  I  have  tried  that  weary  path 

With  burdens  not  a  few, 
With  shadowy  faith  that  Thou  would'st  lead 

And  help  me  safely  through, 
Trying  to  follow  and  obey, 

And  bear  my  burdens  too. 

Master!   dear  Master!   Thou  didst  speak, 

And  yet  I  did  not  hear, 
Or  long  ago  I  might  have  ceased 

From  every  care  and  fear, 
And  gone  rejoicing  on  my  way 

From  brightening  year  to  year. 

And  now  I  find  Thy  promise  true, 

Of  perfect  peace  and  rest ; 
I  cannot  sigh  ;  I  can  but  sing, 

While  leaning  on  Thy  breast, 
And  leaving  everything  to  Thee, 

Whose  ways  are  always  best. 

FRANCES  RIDLEY  HAVEHGAL. 
[356] 


DECEMBER   SIXTEENTH. 

HOW  rare  and  beautiful  is  sincerity!  So  much  is 
done  for  self  and  self-interests,  that  often  what 
appears  to  us  as  a  personal  favor  is  nothing  more  than 
a  means  to  an  end.  It  is  said  the  Arabs  have  a  prayer 
like  this,  "  O  Lord,  I  pray  that  I  may  never  be  deceived  ; 
but  if  I  am  deceived,  I  pray  I  may  never  know  it."  But 
most  people  want  to  know  when  they  are  deceived. 
To  put  confidence  in  a  friend,  and  have  him  prove 
unworthy,  is  always  a  grief  to  us.  Let  us  then  be 
sincere  ourselves,  that  no  one  may  be  deceived  in  us. 

First  I  would  have  thee  cherish  truth 
As  leading  star  in  virtue's  train ; 

Folly  may  pass,  nor  vanish  youth, 
But  falsehood  leaves  a  poison  stain. 

ELIZA  COOK. 

The  man  who  dares  to  dress  misdeeds, 
And  colour  them  with  virtue's  name,  deserves 
A  double  punishment  from  gods  and  men. 

CHARLES  JOHNSON. 

What  man  is  wise,  what  earthly  wit  so  ware, 

As  to  descry  the  crafty  cunning  train, 

By  which  deceit  doth  mask  in  visor  fair, 

And  cast  her  colours  dyed  deep  in  grain, 

To  seem  like  truth,  whose  shape  she  well  can  feign, 

And  fitting  gestures  to  her  purpose  frame, 

The  guiltless  man  with  guile  to  entertain  ? 

SPENSER. 

May  you  be  kept  free  from  deceit  ! 

[357] 


DECEMBER   SEVENTEENTH. 

MAY  this  be  to  you  a  day  of  quiet  enjoyment! 
Winter  without,  Summer  within,  —  this  be  your 
portion !  Warm  the  atmosphere  of  home  with  your  sunny 
disposition ;  turn  on  the  electric  lights  of  your  good- 
nature, and  illumine  every  corner  of  the  house ;  make 
your  place  of  abode  bright  with  your  presence,  and  keep 
giving  out  joy  to  those  around  you.  Don't  sit  frowning 
and  brooding  over  your  book  or  your  work,  but  take 
time  occasionally  to  give  a  kind  word  or  a  smile  to 
others.  Your  business  will  not  be  any  the  worse  for 
it ;  for,  although  you  think  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
utilize  every  moment,  let  me  tell  you,  the  world  will  go 
on  just  the  same  without  you,  when  you  have  ceased  to 
hurry  and  worry  over  things.  Take  time,  then,  to  be 
happy  and  make  others  so,  as  you  pass  along.  If  you 
have  any  joy  in  you,  don't  hoard  it  up ;  the  world  needs 
all  it  can  get ;  be  lavish  with  it,  and  you  will  have  plenty 
left,  for  it  increases  with  the  giving. 

Give  me  long  dreams  and  visions  of  content, 
Rather  than  pleasures  in  a  moment  spent : 
And  since  I  know  before,  the  shedding  rose 
In  that  same  instant  doth  her  sweetness  lose  ; 
Upon  the  virgin  stock  still  let  her  dwell, 
For  me  to  feast  my  longings  with  her  smell. 
Those  are  but  counterfeits  of  joy  at  best, 
Which  languish  soon  as  brought  into  the  test, 
Nor  can  I  hold  it  worth  his  pains,  who  tries 
To  win  that  harvest  which  by  reaping  dies. 

DR.    KING,   BISHOP   OF   CHICHESTER. 

It  is  a  joy 
To  think  the  best  we  can  of  human  kind. 

WORDSWORTH. 

[358] 


DECEMBER  EIGHTEENTH. 

A  HEALTHY  body  is  good ;  but  a  soul  in  right 
health  —  it  is  the  thing  beyond  all  others  to  pray 
for ;  the  blessedest  thing  this  earth  receives  of  Heaven. 

—  CARLYLE. 

The  soul,  of  origin  divine, 

God's  glorious  image  freed  from  clay, 

In  Heaven's  eternal  sphere  shall  shine 

A  star  of  day! 

The  sun  is  but  a  spark  of  fire, 

A  transient  meteor  in  the  sky ; 

The  soul,  immortal  as  its  sire, 

Shall  never  die. 

MONTGOMERY. 

The  soul  on  earth  is  an  immortal  guest, 

Compell'd  to  starve  at  an  unreal  feast : 

A  spark,  which  upward  tends  by  nature's  force : 

A  stream  diverted  from  its  parent  source ; 

A  drop  dissever'd  from  the  boundless  sea ; 

A  moment  parted  from  Eternity ; 

A  pilgrim  panting  for  the  rest  to  come ; 

An  exile,  anxious  for  his  native  home. 

HANNAH  MORE. 

Nature,  who  has  made  no  two  leaves  to  resemble  each 
other,  has  endowed  our  souls  with  a  still  greater  diver- 
sity ;  and  imitation,  then,  is  a  kind  of  death,  since  it 
robs  each  of  its  individual  existence.  —  MADAME  DE 
STAEL. 

May  you  have  "a  soul  as  white  as  Heaven!" 

[359] 


DECEMBER   NINETEENTH. 

THE  keener  tempests  rise  : 
From  all  the  livid  east  or  piercing  north, 
Thick  clouds  descend  .  .  . 
Heavy  they  roll  their  fleecy  world  along  ; 
And  the  sky  saddens  with  the  gathered  storm. 
Through  the  hushed  sky  the  whitening  shower  descends 
At  first  thin  wavering ;  till  at  last  the  flakes 
Fall  broad  and  wide  and  fast,  dimming  the  day 
With  a  continual  flow.     The  cherished  fields 
Put  on  their  winter  robe  of  purest  white. 

JAMES  THOMSON. 

There  is  a  strange  music  in  the  stirring  wind ! 

BOWLES. 

Loud  wind,  strong  wind,  sweeping  o'er  the  mountains, 
Fresh  wind,  free  wind,  blowing  from  the  sea, 
Pour  forth  thy  vials  like  streams  from  airy  fountains, 
Draughts  of  life  to  me. 

D.    M.    MULOCK. 

May  God  keep  thee  calm  of  heart  and  soul,  no 
matter  what  may  disturb  the  outer  air,  or  threaten  the 
outer  world.  His  love  protect  thee ;  His  care  defend 
thee ;  His  peace  enfold  thee,  and  make  thee  tranquil 
within !  Preserve  a  quiet  demeanor ;  be  always  hopeful, 
bright,  and  cheerful,  but  be  also  gentle  of  voice  and 
manner,  —  not  stormy  or  loud  like  the  Wind.  A  gusty 
nature  is  never  restful ;  in  youth  it  is  bubbling  over 
with  life  and  merriment,  but  has  no  stability  ;  in  age  it 
fumes  and  frets,  and  carries  a  tempest  wherever  it  goes. 
Learn  how  to  obtain  the  inner  calm,  and  thou  shalt  be 
in  every  season  a  spirit  of  rest  and  peace  in  the  midst 
of  life's  storms. 

[360] 


DECEMBER   TWENTIETH. 

WHEN  your  hearth  is  bright  and  cheery,  and  the 
soft  red  light  flickers  on  ceiling  and  wall,  when 
you  are  surrounded  by  comforts,  and  even  luxuries,  let 
your  heart  go  out  in  loving  pity  to  the  poor  and  suf- 
fering, the  hungry  and  homeless  ones,  who  are  shiver- 
ing along  the  cold  wintry  streets,  while  you  are  snugly 
housed  and  sheltered  from  the  snowy  blasts.  Don't 
stop  at  mere  pity  for  them  ;  do  something  to  help  them. 
Pope  says, 

"  In  Faith  and  Hope  the  world  will  disagree, 
But  all  mankind's  concern  is  charity." 

Oh,  poverty  is  disconsolate!  — 

Its  pains  are  many,  its  foes  are  strong : 

The  rich  man,  in  his  jovial  cheer, 

Wishes  'twas  winter  through  the  year ; 
The  poor  man  mid  his  wants  profound, 

With  all  his  little  children  round, 
Prays  God  that  winter  be  not  long! 

MARY   HOWITT. 

Winter  was  at  the  heart  of  all  things.  ...  It  was 
a  time  when  selfishness  hugs  itself  in  its  own  warmth. 
When  the  mere  wordling  rejoices  the  more  in  his 
warm  chamber,  because  it  is  so  bitter  cold  without. 
A  time  when  such  a  man  sees  in  the  misery  of  his  fel- 
low-beings nothing  save  his  own  victory  of  fortune. . . . 

It  was  a  time,  too,  when  human  nature  often  shows 
its  true  divinity,  and  with  misery  like  a  garment  cling- 
ing to  it,  forgets  its  wretchedness  in  sympathy  with 
suffering.  A  time  when  in  want,  in  anguish,  in  throes 
of  mortal  agony,  some  seed  is  sown  that  bears  a  flower 
in  Heaven.  —  DOUGLAS  JERROLD. 
[361] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-FIRST. 

TT\ATHER  and  King  of  Powers,  both  high  and  low 
-*•     Whose  sounding  Fame  all  creatures  serve  to  blow ; 
My  Soul  shall  with  the  rest  strike  up  thy  praise, 
And  Carol  of  thy  works  and  wondrous  ways. 

The  glorious  majesty  of  God  above 
Shall  ever  reign,  in  Mercy  and  in  Love : 

As  long  as  life  doth  last,  I  Hymns  will  sing, 
With  cheerful  voice  to  the  eternal  King ; 
As  long  as  I  have  being,  I  will  praise 
The  works  of  God,  and  all  His  wondrous  ways. 

Let  all  His  works  praise  Him  with  one  accord 
O  praise  the  Lord,  my  Soul ;  praise  ye  the  Lord ! 

LORD  BACON. 

Praise  Him  ever, 

Bounteous  Giver ; 

Praise  Him,  Father,  Friend,  and  Lord ! 
Each  glad  soul,  its  free  course  winging, 
Each  glad  voice,  its  free  song  singing, 
Praise  the  great  and  mighty  Lord ! 

JOHN  STUART  BLACKIE. 

He  is  the  well  of  life,  for  He  does  give 

To  all  that  live 
Both  breath  and  being ;  He  is  the  Creator 

Both  of  the  water, 
Earth,  air,  and  fire.     Of  all  things  that  subsist 

He  has  the  list ; 

Of  all  the  heavenly  hosts,  or  what  earth  claims, 
He  keeps  the  scroll,  and  calls  them  by  their  names. 

THOMAS   HEYWOOD. 
[362] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-SECOND. 

LET  us  keep  our  faith  in  God,  and  in  each  other. 
How  beautiful  is  the  implicit  faith  and  trust  of 
childhood;  and  how  even  more  beautiful  still  is  the 
old  person  who  has  preserved  a  belief  in,  and  love  for, 
all  humanity!  If  we  would  only  see  the  best  in  those 
around  us,  we  should  have  more  faith  in  them,  but  we 
are  continually  on  the  lookout  for  flaws.  This  is  why 
there  are  not  more  Christians  in  the  world :  people 
expect  perfection  of  those  who  profess  to  follow  Christ, 
and  because  they  fail  to  come  up  to  the  standard  of 
right,  they  are  often  held  up  as  poor  examples  of  Chris- 
tianity. How  wrong  this  is!  We  should  not  expect 
perfection  of  any  save  God,  and  the  man  who  is  trying 
to  imitate  Him  is  to  be  honored,  though  he  may  often 
make  mistakes.  He  who  uses  Christianity  as  a  cloak 
for  his  sins  is  not  worthy  to  be  called  a  Christian; 
therefore  he  certainly  is  not  a  fit  example  to  follow. 
Let  us,  then,  put  confidence  in  God  as  God,  and  in 
man  as  man,  but  let  us  never  confuse  the  two,  thinking 
either  that  man  can  be  perfect  like  God,  or  that  God 
could  ever  descend  to  the  level  of  man. 


Nought  shall  prevail  against  us,  or  disturb 
Our  cheerful  faith,  that  all  which  we  behold 
Is  full  of  blessings. 

WORDSWORTH. 


True  faith  and  reason  are  the  soul's  two  eyes. 
Faith  evermore  looks  upward,  and  descries 
Objects  remote  ;  —  but  reason  can  discover 
Things  only  near,  —  sees  nothing  that's  above  her. 

QUARLES. 

[363] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-THIRD. 

SEEK  not   the  highest  places,  but   fit  yourself  for 
them,  so  that  if  they  are  given  to  you,  you  may  fill 
them  acceptably  and  honor  them. 

Virtue,  not  rolling  suns,  the  mind  matures ; 
That  life  is  long,  which  answers  life's  great  end. 
The  time  that  bears  no  fruit,  deserves  no  name. 
The  man  of  wisdom  is  the  man  of  years. 

YOUNG. 

This  is  true  glory  and  renown,  when  God 
Looking  on  earth,  with  approbation  marks 
The  just  man,  and  divulges  him  through  Heav'n 
To  all  his  angels,  who  with  true  applause 
Recount  his  praise. 

MILTON. 

Nobility  is  not  only  in  dignity  and  ancient  lineage, 
nor  great  revenues,  lands,  or  possessions,  but  in  wis- 
dom, knowledge,  and  virtue,  which,  in  man,  is  very 
nobility ;  and  this  nobility  bringeth  man  to  dignity. 
Honour  ought  to  be  given  to  virtue,  and  not  to  riches. 

—  AN  ACH  ARSIS. 

Happen  what  there  can,  I  will  be  just ; 
My  fortune  may  forsake  me,  not  my  virtue : 
That  shall  go  with  me  and  before  me  still, 
And  glad  me  doing  well,  though  I  hear  ill. 

BEN  JONSON. 

Some  there  are 

By  their  good  deeds  exalted,  lofty  minds 
And  meditative  authors  of  delight 
And  happiness,  which  to  the  end  of  time 
Will  live  and  spread  and  flourish. 

WORDSWORTH. 

[364] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-FOURTH. 

WHO  art  thou  that  complainest  of  thy  life  of  toil? 
Complain  not.  Look  up,  my  wearied  brother ; 
see  thy  fellow-workmen  there,  in  God's  Eternity  ;  sur- 
viving there,  they  alone  surviving ;  sacred  band  of  the 
Immortals,  celestial  body-guard  of  the  empire  of  man- 
kind. To  thee,  Heaven,  though  severe,  is  not  unkind ; 
Heaven  is  kind,  —  as  a  noble  mother ;  as  that  Spartan 
mother,  saying  while  she  gave  her  son  his  shield, 
"  With  it,  my  son,  or  upon  it."  Thou  too  shalt  return 
home  in  honour ;  to  thy  far-distant  Home,  in  honour ; 
doubt  it  not,  —  if  in  the  battle  thou  keep  thy  shield.  — 

THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

Not  stirring  words,  nor  gallant  deeds  alone, 
Plain  patient  work,  fulfilled  that  length  of  life ; 

Duty,  not  glory  —  Service,  not  a  throne, 
Inspired  his  effort,  set  for  him  the  strife. 

ARTHUR  HUGH  CLOUGH. 

A  trusty  workman  I  would  be, 

And  well  my  task  pursue  ; 
Work  when  my  Master  does  not  see, 

And  work  with  vigour  too. 

And  whilst  I  ply  the  busy  foot, 

Or  heave  the  labouring  arm, 
Do  Thou  my  withering  strength  recruit, 

And  guard  me  well  from  harm. 

JOHN   BERRIDGE. 

It  is  just  as  much  to  thy  credit  to  do  the   humble 
task  well,  as  to  do  the  great  one.     It  is  the  heart  that 
God  looks  at,  and  not  the  work  itself. 
[365] 


CHRISTMAS-DAY. 
A  MERRY  CHRISTMAS  TO  YOU! 

HTHIS  is  the  dear   Lord's  birthday  — the  time   of 
JL    rejoicing,  the  crown  of  the  year  ! 

Heap  on  more  wood !  —  the  wind  is  chill ; 

But  let  it  whistle  as  it  will, 

We1!!  keep  our  Christmas  merry  still. 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT. 

High  cause  had  they,  at  Bethlehem,  that  night 
To  lift  the  curtain  of  Hope's  hidden  light, 
To  break  decree  of  silence  with  Love's  cry, 
Forseeing  how  this  Babe,  born  lowlily, 

Should  Mercy  to  her  vacant  throne  restore, 

Teach  Right  to  Kings,  and  Patience  to  the  poor : 

Should  by  His  sweet  Name  all  names  overthrow, 

And  by  His  lovely  words,  the  quick  seeds  sow 

Of  golden  equities,  and  brotherhood, 

Of  Pity,  Peace,  and  gentle  praise  of  Good ; 

Of  knightly  honour,  holding  life  in  trust 

For  God,  and  Lord,  and  all  things  pure  and  just. 

EDWIN  ARNOLD. 

The  shepherds  sing ;  and  shall  I  silent  be? 

My  God,  no  hymn  for  Thee? 
My  soul's  a  shepherd  too ;  a  flock  it  feeds 

Of  thoughts  and  words  and  deeds. 
The  pasture  is  Thy  word ;  the  streams,  Thy  grace 

Enriching  all  the  place. 
Shepherds  and  flock  shall  sing,  and  all  my  powers 

Outsing  the  daylight  hours. 

GEORGE    HERBERT. 

[366] 


DECEMBER  TWENTY-SIXTH. 

GOD  knows  what  is  best  for  thee ;  there  is  not  a 
morning  that  dawns  but  He  does  not  think  of 
thee  in  loving  remembrance ;  He  wakes  thee  again  to 
light  and  life  once  more,  and  yet  thou  art  not  half  grate- 
ful enough  to  Him  ;  thy  every  deed  is  witnessed  by  Him 
—  fear  not  to  trust  Him  to  guide  thee  in  all  thy  ways. 
Be  resigned  to  His  will,  and  know  that  He  loves  thee 
far  more  than  any  earthly  friend  can,  and  that  He 
holds  thy  future  and  all  that  thou  hast  in  His  almighty 
Hand.  He  never  forgets  His  beloved,  and  He  will 
safely  keep  thee  until  the  years  of  thy  earth-journey 
have  finished  their  pilgrimage. 

Without  an  end  or  bound 
Thy  life  lies  all  outspread  in  light ; 
Our  lives  feel  Thy  life  all  around, 
Making  our  weakness  strong,  our  darkness  bright ; 
Yet  is  it  neither  wilderness  nor  sea, 
But  the  calm  gladness  of  a  full  eternity. 

FABER. 

And  when  the  tribes  of  wickedness  are  strewn 
Like  forest-leaves  in  the  Autumn  of  Thine  ire : 
Faithful  and  true!  Thou  still  wilt  save  Thine  own! 
The  saints  shall  dwell  within  the  unharming  fire, 
Each  white  robe  spotless,  blooming  every  palm. 
Even  safe  as  we,  by  this  still  fountain's  side, 
So  shall  the  church,  thy  bright  and  mystic  bride, 
Sit  on  the  stormy  gulf  a  halcyon  bird  of  calm. 
Yes,  'mid  yon  angry  and  destroying  signs, 
O'er  us  the  rainbow  of  Thy  mercy  shines  ; 
We  hail,  we  bless  the  covenant  of  its  beam, 
Almighty  to  avenge,  almightiest  to  redeem! 

HENRY    HART   MILMAN. 
[367] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

AS  he  that  lives  longest  lives  but  a  little  while, 
every  man  may  be  certain  that  he  has  no  time  to 
waste.  The  duties  of  life  are  commensurate  to  its  dura- 
tion, and  every  day  brings  its  task,  which  if  neglected  is 
doubled  on  the  morrow.  But  he  that  has  already  trifled 
away  those  months  and  years,  in  which  he  should  have 
laboured,  must  remember  that  he  has  now  only  a  part 
of  that  of  which  the  whole  is  little ;  and  that  since  the 
moments  remaining  are  to  be  considered  as  the  last 
trust  of  Heaven,  not  one  is  to  be  lost.  —  SAMUEL 

JOHNSON. 

An  hour  once  fled,  has  fled  forever. 

SCOTT. 

To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 
Creeps  in  this  petty  pace  from  day  to  day, 
To  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

See  the  minutes  how  they  run, 
How  many  make  the  hour  full,  complete, 
How  many  hours  bring  about  the  day, 
How  many  days  will  finish  up  the  year, 
How  many  years  a  mortal  man  may  live. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Our  time  consumes  like  smoke  and  posts  away ; 
Nor  can  we  treasure  up  a  month  or  day. 
The  sand  within  the  transitory  glass 

Doth  haste,  and  so  our  minutes  pass. 

WATKYNS. 
[368] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

OH,  I  beseech  you,  be  true !  The  year  is  dying  fast, 
how  fast!  The  beautiful  Christmas-tide  has  come 
and  gone ;  the  hearts  of  the  children  have  been  glad- 
dened and  all  the  world  is  better  for  its  thoughts  of 
Christ,  the  King.  You  stand  to-day  almost  at  the 
close  of  the  Old  Year ;  how  much  you  have  to  think  of, 
as  you  look  backward  !  Have  you  been  true  to  yourself 
and  your  convictions  ?  Have  you  been  true  to  the  world, 
and  God  ?  Have  you  made  mistakes  ?  We  all  do.  We 
all  innocently  err,  but  ah !  we  often  do  more  than  this, 
—  we  fail  to  do  as  well  as  we  might.  How  about  the 
neglected  opportunities?  How  about  the  things  you 
might  have  said  and  done  to  help  make  the  world 
better?  Was  this  being  faithful  and  true  to  yourself? 
Were  you  not  deceiving  others,  when  you  ignored  the 
chances  given  you  by  your  Heavenly  Father?  Perhaps 
the  world  has  called  you  good  ;  did  you  deserve  it,  when 
you  gave  the  impression  that  you  were  living  up  to  your 
privileges  ?  "  Will  a  man  rob  God  ?  "  you  say, "  I  would 
not  do  that"  but  what  else  do  you  call  it,  when  you  take 
His  opportunities  and  throw  them  away?  Have  you 
been  true  to  yourself  ?  Have  you  been  true  to  Him  ? 

Where  are  the  great,  whom  thou  wouldst  wish  to  praise 

thee? 
Where  are  the  pure,  whom  thou  wouldst  choose  to  love 

thee  ? 

Where  are  the  brave,  to  stand  supreme  above  thee, 
Whose  high  commands  would  cheer,  whose  chidings 

raise  thee? 

Seek,  seeker,  in  thyself;  submit  to  find 
In  the  stones,  bread,  and  life  in  the  blank  mind. 

ARTHUR   HUGH  CLOUGH. 
[369] 


DECEMBER   TWENTY-NINTH. 

WE  are  led  on,  like  the  little  children,  by  a  way 
that  we  know  not.  It  is  a  vain  thought  to  flee 
from  the  work  that  God  appoints  us,  for  the  sake  of 
rinding  a  greater  blessing  to  our  souls  ;  as  if  we  could 
choose  for  ourselves  where  we  shall  find  the  fulness 
of  the  Divine  Presence,  instead  of  seeking  it  where 
alone  it  is  to  be  found,  in  loving  obedience.  —  GEORGE 
ELIOT. 

Calm  soul  of  all  things !  make  it  mine 

To  feel  amid  the  city's  jar, 
That  there  abides  a  peace  of  Thine, 

Man  did  not  make  and  cannot  mar. 

The  will  to  neither  strive  nor  cry, 
The  power  to  feel  with  others,  give! 

Calm,  calm  me  more!  nor  let  me  die 
Before  I  have  begun  to  live. 

MATTHEW    ARNOLD. 

Although  to-day  He  prunes  my  twigs  with  pain, 
Yet  doth  His  blood  nourish  and  warm  my  root ; 

To-morrow  I  shall  put  forth  buds  again, 
And  clothe  myself  with  fruit. 

Although  to-day  I  walk  in  tedious  ways, 

To-day  His  staff  is  turned  into  a  rod, 
Yet  will  I  wait  for  Him  the  appointed  days 

And  stay  upon  my  God. 

CHRISTINA   ROSSETTI. 

The  spirit  of  obedience  and  resignation  be  yours ! 

[370] 


DECEMBER   THIRTIETH. 

WE  have  had  many  glances  backward,  and  now  let 
us  look  forward  to  futurity,  where  waits  for  us 
the  great  glad  morning  of  the  Better  Day.  Soon  shall 
dawn  the  Celestial  Spring,  when  the  soul  shall  leave 
behind  its  winter,  and  mount  upward,  clad  in  beauty 
fresh  and  fair.  AH  peace,  all  joy,  all  happiness  be 
yours ;  and  may  you  walk  with  God's  redeemed, 
through  the  glad  Eternal  Years! 

For  what  abides  that  we  should  look  on  here? 
The  heavens  are  better  than  this  earth  below, 

They  are  of  more  account  and  far  more  dear. 
We  will  look  up,  for  all  most  sweet  and  fair, 
Most  pure,  most  excellent,  is  garnered  there. 

JEAN   INGELOW. 

We  are  born  for  a  higher  destiny  than  that  of  earth  ; 
there  is  a  realm  where  the  rainbow  never  fades,  where 
the  stars  will  be  spread  before  us  like  islands  that  slum- 
ber on  the  ocean,  and  where  the  beings  that  pass  before 
us  like  shadows  will  stay  in  our  presence  forever.  — 

BULWER-LYTTON. 

Go  wing  thy  flight  from  star  to  star, 
From  world  to  luminous  world,  as  far 

As  the  universe  spreads  its  flaming  wall ; 
Take  all  the  pleasures  of  all  the  spheres, 
And  multiply  each  through  endless  years, 

One  minute  of  Heaven  is  worth  them  all. 

MOORE. 

Keep  quietly  to  God,  and  think 
Upon  the  Eternal  Years. 

F.  W.  FABER. 

[371] 


DECEMBER   THIRTY-FIRST. 

*~pHE  last  day  of  the  year  5  let  us  give  it  "  God 
-A-  speed ! "  and  as  it  ends  its  pilgrimage,  may  every 
heart  ascend  in  gratitude  to  Heaven,  for  the  blessings 
and  mercies  so  richly  showered  upon  us  with  all  the 
changing  seasons.  And  it  is  my  sincere  wish  that 
from  the  seed  you  have  sown  in  the  passing  year,  may 
spring  forth  a  harvest  of  good  deeds  which  shall  go  on 
ripening  through  all  time,  for  Eternity.  And  now 
we  hear  the  feeble  tread  of  the  Old  Year,  going,  going, 
—  and  soon  he  will  be  sleeping  side  by  side  with  his 
departed  sires.  Oh,  may  he  carry  with  him  many  sweet 
and  beautiful  things  for  us  to  remember  in  days  to 
come !  The  Old  Year  dies ;  farewell ! 


And  as  the  moments  slip  away, 

The  midnight  bells  sweep  o'er  the  sky  — 

"  Good  bye,  Old  Year  "  —  we  softly  say  — 
" Oh  dear  Old  Year —  good  bye  —  good  bye! " 

"Go,  long  tried  friend  —  we  part  in  peace  — 
Thine  hour  is  come,  thy  tale  is  told ; 

Time  gives  the  signal  for  release  — 
And  thou  art  with  the  days  of  old ! " 

HELEN   MARION   BURNSIDE. 


Oh,  New  Year,  teach  us  faith ! 

We'll  hold  our  patient  hands,  each  in  his  place, 
And  trust  thee  to  the  end ; 

Knowing  thou  leadest  onward  to  those  spheres 
Where  there  are  neither  days,  nor  months,  nor  years. 

DINAH   MULOCH   CRAIK. 


Press  of  T.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
or  Place,  New  York 


Astor 


I 


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